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iamomPaid users have access to the new style templates called S2 which I've heard lots about but never really checked out. It's powerful stuff, and while there's only one new style (called Component -- I just deployed it for my journal here), I've heard that it's easy to customize this and also to create your own new styles. Anyway, I dig it so far, and will likely update the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
nonduality community soon, when I get a chance. If you have a paid account and want to check it out, go here.
But this is not what I've sat down to write, at this ungodly hour when I should be in bed. I just returned from another night at the jazz festival, this time hearing the new musical love of my life, Kiran Ahluwalia. I mentioned her yesterday, but I heard her perform live tonight (B came with me -- fantastic!), and the show was as heart-rending as I expected, and more. In fact, her voice gave me goosebumps for fully the first half hour, and I actually had tears in my eyes within the first few notes of the first song. She was unbelievable, and her CD is excellent. We picked up a copy of it after the show.
Watching her perform also underlined something I've been trying to put my finger on lately about my approach to work, especially at this new job. It had to do with how gracefully she moved her body when she sang; the subtle movements of her hands, the angle of her fingers, the way she swayed in time to the music, and the wonderful smiling gazes (darshan, really) she bestowed upon her three fellow musicians at various points in the music. She embodied grace with every movement and sound she made, and reminded me of how I could carry that kind of grace with me to my work.
I had it today, sort of, while deeply entrenched in reviewing and adjusting technical details on four projects almost at once. I was sitting quietly at the computer, moving fluidly between my keyboard and my fountain pen (I always use a fountain pen with free-flowing ink that I draw from an inkwell), gazing at the monitor and watching the various details unfold and arrange themselves in front of me. Outside my window, the air hung hot and heavy with moisture, wet enough to moisten the walls and floors inside the house but not enough to rain, and a breeze so gentle it could barely be felt eased through the window and onto my skin. I sat and worked like this for longer than I can remember, emerging from this state only after being interrupted by the ringing phone. Watching Kiran perform tonight made me recall my afternoon's absorption, and made me remember that I can bring this kind of peace to the busiest of my days, turning them into the deepest meditation and practice.
Closing with the wonderful portrait of Z that B recently took by the lake behind our house. Click on the thumbnail to see the larger image as you wish... She's 14 months old going on 14 years old, it seems.
nonduality community soon, when I get a chance. If you have a paid account and want to check it out, go here.But this is not what I've sat down to write, at this ungodly hour when I should be in bed. I just returned from another night at the jazz festival, this time hearing the new musical love of my life, Kiran Ahluwalia. I mentioned her yesterday, but I heard her perform live tonight (B came with me -- fantastic!), and the show was as heart-rending as I expected, and more. In fact, her voice gave me goosebumps for fully the first half hour, and I actually had tears in my eyes within the first few notes of the first song. She was unbelievable, and her CD is excellent. We picked up a copy of it after the show.
Watching her perform also underlined something I've been trying to put my finger on lately about my approach to work, especially at this new job. It had to do with how gracefully she moved her body when she sang; the subtle movements of her hands, the angle of her fingers, the way she swayed in time to the music, and the wonderful smiling gazes (darshan, really) she bestowed upon her three fellow musicians at various points in the music. She embodied grace with every movement and sound she made, and reminded me of how I could carry that kind of grace with me to my work.
I had it today, sort of, while deeply entrenched in reviewing and adjusting technical details on four projects almost at once. I was sitting quietly at the computer, moving fluidly between my keyboard and my fountain pen (I always use a fountain pen with free-flowing ink that I draw from an inkwell), gazing at the monitor and watching the various details unfold and arrange themselves in front of me. Outside my window, the air hung hot and heavy with moisture, wet enough to moisten the walls and floors inside the house but not enough to rain, and a breeze so gentle it could barely be felt eased through the window and onto my skin. I sat and worked like this for longer than I can remember, emerging from this state only after being interrupted by the ringing phone. Watching Kiran perform tonight made me recall my afternoon's absorption, and made me remember that I can bring this kind of peace to the busiest of my days, turning them into the deepest meditation and practice.
Closing with the wonderful portrait of Z that B recently took by the lake behind our house. Click on the thumbnail to see the larger image as you wish... She's 14 months old going on 14 years old, it seems.
