Farewell to summer through the senses

I’ve been working at the cabin all day, getting ready to close it over the next two weeks, and making my farewells to summer here at Littlehorse.  How to talk about farewells? Maybe through the experiences filtered through senses over the course of the day: evening silence, the color gold, the taste and smell of harvest veggies, the touch of a paintbrush from a postponed summer task, a yoga sequence.

I always feel a little out of sorts at transition times, trying to fight a sense of loss and the anxiety that comes with it. I go through this every year when I get ready to go back to the city. Anxiety be damned--I want to focus instead on gratitude for the chance to spend so much of my summer here as well as the anticipation of returning to Denver friends and activities.

So as the day winds to an end, I decide to take a long walk.  The evening is so very quiet, and the silence reminds me of what’s missing after summer ends: bird cries and the buzz of hummingbirds, thunder from a late afternoon summer storm, the occasional RV bumping over the gravel road on its way to 11-Mile Reservoir.  The strong afternoon winds have stopped and the air is absolutely still. I hear my footsteps crunch on gravel as I climb up into the trees across the road. Two birds call to each other. As the light fades, I hear coyotes howl in the distance. I start to breathe more deeply. There are no human sounds, and as my anxiety lessens, I’m grateful for that.

Gold--the color of Colorado in autumn. The aspen trees have been turning gold this week, and I can see the change daily. Peak colors will come in another week or so. This background of this selfie, taken last Saturday, gives you an idea.

Then there’s the gold I see almost every evening and morning at sunrise and sunset. This sunset photo, taken a few days ago, features the reds that are more common as fall approaches. No gold tonight, though. The sky was a study in various shades of blue, matching my mood.

I spent the afternoon cooking, steaming broccoli and sweet potatoes, and putting together a pasta salad featuring the cherry tomatoes from plants which *finally* started producing in mid-August. They grew in Linda’s small greenhouse, which I happily share every summer for the pleasure of picking fresh lettuce, scallions greens and herbs all summer. Any fruiting plant—peppers, squash, tomatoes—requires patience. Such is the nature of gardening at nearly 9000 feet. Just as it’s time to pick our reward, well, it’s time to say goodbye to the season. The tomatoes were worth waiting for, however; tasty in the salad but best picked right from the vine. Here’s a photo from Aug. 18 of one day's pickings.

Mornings are the best time for outside chores. The wind is usually calm and my energy is high. This morning I stained the cabin stairs, front and back, and the deck railings. The high altitude sun is merciless on wood, and a touch-up was overdue. Generally I dislike painting/staining—the smell of the chemicals and messiness of it all, so I had put off the job all summer. Today I got it done—testament to the value of deadlines. Final cabin closing day is close and I knew I wasn't likely to get better weather. Surprisingly, the work was pleasant: the dry bleached wood soaked up the stain, and I liked the feel of gliding the brush back and forth.

Perhaps the most delightful sensory experience of late summer came last Saturday when I visited Karen Anderson’s beautiful home and gardens here in Florissant. Karen and yoga teacher Debbie Winking invited me to a yoga day outdoors, along with several other friends and yoga practitioners. I wrote about Karen’s gardens and summer yoga events in this blog last year. (Click here for that entry.) We started with greetings and coffee in Karen’s kitchen. From this photo you can see the visual treat she has every day when she does dishes and looks out at the soft colors outside the window. The inside view gives you a glimpse of the spirit of her home and gardens.

Later we moved outdoors on that sunny and temperate day, and did yoga amid the trees (How perfect for the tree pose!). There was mat work too, and we all found places where we could stretch out and gaze at the gardens and the sky. Here was my spot.

Then came a tasty potluck lunch and time for a circle to close the day. We each drew a word from a bag of small folded papers and reflected on its meaning. I drew the word “solace". I have a Catholic background, and it immediately evoked a mental picture of the Virgin Mary: a tender touch, a soft word, loving gaze. The image/idea of solace has returned to me during the past week. It’s something we give others when a heart is hurting or fearful or just unsettled. And solace, I thought as I walked this evening, is something we can give ourselves. One of the yoga sequences we did involved turning to each of four directions, squatting, scooping energy from the earth and raising our arms to the sky. Each direction represented a quality: acceptance (north), gratitude (east), letting go (south), and trust (west). The elements of solace perhaps? I started today with this activity and plan to do so again tomorrow.

Laughing for no reason with Laughter Yoga

I'm enjoying a quiet morning indoors here in Florissant, looking out the dining room window at passing wildlife (raven, squirrel, deer)--and laughing. I just finished watching Day 130 of Dave Berman's Laugh of the Day on youtube. It's part of Daily Laughers, a channel Dave created for his daily 5--10 minute laughter sessions with Laughter Yoga teachers around the world. It's become part of my daily practice, and today I decided to do 3 sessions in a row, as I'm missing a session with the laughter club I'm part of in Denver. A great day to start the day--or in my case--put some energy into my mid-morning. I'm an early riser this week, as the cats I'm caring for expect their breakfast at 6:15, and being their devoted servant, I oblige.

Laughter Yoga is a practice, a way to benefit from the joy and healing power of laughter without need  of jokes or humor. It began with Dr. Madan Kataria in India 21 years ago and has since expanded into thousands of laughter clubs throughout the world. Dr. Kataria's great insight was the fact that laughing for no reason can produce the same physical and mental effects as laughing at a joke: increased endorphins (pleasure-inducing chemicals in the brain),  bonding with community (oxytocin) and all of the other positive effects of letting go of stress. The yoga part of the practice started with Dr. Kataria's wife, Madhuri, a yoga teacher who believed that yoga's breathing, meditative and spiritual aspects had a place in this healing art. Laughter yoga sessions often end with quiet time and a reflection on spreading world peace through laughter.

Over time I've gotten to know the friends I met through my laughter club, and part of the fun each Monday is going out to lunch afterwards to talk and, well, laugh some more. I first discovered Laughter Yoga toward the end of my stay in Japan when my friend Denise Olivieri took me to a World Laughter Day in Tokyo. (Yes, there is such a thing! First Sunday in May every year.) There I was with dozens of others simply laughing for no reason via a variety of short (a minute or so) exercises. Breathing, clapping, laughing--those are the elements of Laughter Yoga. Here's an example of a laughter yoga session on Youtube.  No doubt one laugh equals 100 words or more. You can watch this 3-minute clip here.

When I moved back to Denver two years ago I found an on-going club which meets weekly at noon at the Unitarian Church at 14th and Lafayette.* The number of participants varies from just a few to perhaps 15, depending on everyone's schedule or inclination. There is no fee or need to sign up for a course. Starting in June, the group moves to nearby Cheesman Park and continues there until fall.

Here we are one morning in the upstairs room at the church, where the stained glass window creates a beautiful light.

As this blog is part memoir, I wonder, as I write, how my laugh has changed since I was a child. I remember taking a voice class once and being told "Your voice is not your voice. It's a collection of habits, mostly unconscious, that you have heard and adapted." I imagine the same is true of laughter. I have no videos or other recordings of my earlier selves laughing. Probably, as a young child, my laughs and giggles were a lot more spontaneous, but then came my teen years and an infusion of self-consciousness. If laughter reflects our self-confidence, our emotional depth and sense of freedom, then I know my laugh is stronger and freer now than it was during my more timid adolescence.

Laughter yoga has its offshoots and one of them is Laughter Wellness, developed by Sebastien Gendry, a laughter specialist, I guess you could say, based in California. He started Laughter Online University, through which you can get certification in leading Laughter Wellness groups. I enrolled this year, and my goal this month is to finish the program. When I return to Florissant in June, I'd like to bring more laughter skills with me and lead a session or two here. I led my first session in Japan when I returned for a visit in March. It was at the annual retreat of WELL (Women Educators and Language Learners), a group very dear to my heart. About 20 participants turned up for a 9 a.m. session and I was delighted with their enthusiasm and creativity. Later I visited Denise--the friend who had introduced me to LY--and I visited a Tokyo laughter club (see info below). Here we are looking a bit flushed and relaxed after that session.

*Anyone interested in finding a laughter yoga club in your country/area can go to this website. A great source in Japan is Mary Tadokoro. She and her husband are experienced laughter yoga trainers in Tokyo. You can reach her via the Kichijoji Laughter Club. The link for Laughter Online University is here. There are also a growing number of Skype laughter clubs in various countries. You can get the call times at this link. What a way to travel--hohohahaha!

Yoga and flowers at Paradise Gardens

The season turned this past week, officially shifting from summer to fall on the calendar—a process that started much earlier and still continues, as colors turn and temperatures drop. I’m enjoying both, while at the same time, taking out summer memories, like smooth stones in a pocket. Today I’m turning over one of my favorites—visits to Paradise Gardens here in Florissant. Here I love to indulge two of my passions—garden appreciation and yoga.

Paradise Gardens is the name of the home and garden of Karen Anderson and her husband, Mike McCartney. They’ve been living on this forested land for 38 years. For the first 18 years, they lived in a small house, without electricity or running water—an accomplishment that Thoreau would certainly acknowledge and applaud if he visited our consumer-driven century. Karen started small with gardening, planting in a space that is now her herb garden.

Over time, the cabin and amenities developed, and Karen brought their high altitude acres into bloom. She’s known locally as “The Plant Lady”—deservedly so, as gardening is her passion. She has shared her knowledge and plants with just about everyone who consults her about growing stuff in rocky soil at 9000 feet. Would-be gardeners can attend a class, phone for an appointment or come to one of her open houses. My first visit was a couple of years ago during the annual greenhouse tour sponsored by the The Harvest Center. I was totally charmed from the moment I stepped onto her winding paths.

There are structures too, including a small shed, where Karen displays her artwork as well as plants. 

Raised beds contain outdoor plants, and a greenhouse is essential for extending the short growing season here.

For Karen, gardening involves much practical attention to the needs of plants—location, soil, nourishment. It’s also a spiritual practice. She’s approaches her work with awareness of The Great Law—or seven-generation concept. “Plant it Forward”, in other words. Basically that means thinking about how our actions will affect others—and the planet—through the next seven generations. Accordingly, that means gardening nature’s way, without the use of chemical pesticides or fertilizers, focusing on organic ways to build the soil and conserve moisture. 

Karen’s spiritual orientation also drew her to yoga. Her long-time friend, Debbie Winking, teaches yoga classes locally. I attend them as often as I can during the summer. At least a couple of times during the season—often at the full or new moon—they have a yoga day (or eve) at the gardens. Participants come from Debbie’s classes and the number is usually small—10 or fewer. That allows us to gather around the pond (a converted satellite dish) or in open spots on the lawn, where we lay our mats. My last visit was in August, the evening full moon. In July we stretched one morning under the sun after introductions and a sharing circle.

Yoga outdoors feels special. So many things do, but a practice designed to promote relaxation and gratitude feels, well, especially special. Science backs up that common experience.  Beautiful scenery stimulates those pleasure-enhancing endorphins in our brains. Ester Sternberg, in her book Healing Spaces: The Science of Place and Well-being (Harvard University Press, 2009), asserts that touching green or a sandy beach produces even more stimulation, which in turn promotes healing.

At our yoga sessions, Debbie reminds us that standing barefoot on uneven ground helps with balance—an important component of yoga practice for so many of us. Standing in the Tree Pose, I realize that my balance is not nearly as good as I want it to be. I vow to do this more often. 

Sometimes evening yoga events are rained out, but this August we were lucky. No drops at all, as we saw the moon rise, glimpsing its travels as we continued stretching or holding poses. The evening ended with our going inside Karen and Mike’s comfortable home for tea and snacks and conversation. Then came my 40-minute ride back home through the darkness, keeping an eye on the moon and all attention on the road and deer-inhabited roadside. A yoga mind was essential for that.

This photo, taken in 2014, shows Debbie (left) and Karen holding Buttons, her canine companion. 

Writing this September day in 2015, I turn that yoga day memory stone over in my mental pocket, thinking back with gratitude and forward with hopes for another season of yoga and flowers next year.