Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Rumi & Leaf-Blowers

Every Monday morning in the summer, at eight o'clock, the caretakers of the property adjacent to my apartment fire up a gas-fuelled leaf blower, shattering the morning quiet with nerve-jangling noise. Often the blast of noise comes as I am doing my practise of meditation and prayer. It is a test of equanimity that I don’t always pass.

Living in a large city I’ve gotten pretty good at embracing the sounds that arise around me. When a siren wails I pause and say a prayer for both the first responders and for those who are awaiting their arrival, sending a breath of calmness and comfort and a prayer that all be well. When warm weather is accompanied by the sound of city workers jack-hammering up the pavement to replace water pipes, I greet the sound with gratitude for running water and indoor plumbing. Even on Sunday mornings, when the quiet is disturbed by the street-cleaning vehicle noisily sucking up gutter debris, I manage a small inner bow to those who keep our city clean.

But for some reason the Monday morning leaf-blower defies my attempts at garnering gratitude for all the sounds of life around me. Perhaps it is because I don’t really “get” the usefulness of leaf blowers that seem to shift grass clippings and fallen leaves from one property to another without actually removing them. Perhaps it is because it always starts at eight on the first day of the work week, reminding me ominously of the old adage, “As we begin, so shall we continue.” As I sit in the midst of the noise I acknowledge that the man wielding the offending power tool is no doubt doing so to provide for his family, but I can’t help but wish that he- that everyone- would find a way to do so without gas leaf blowers.

I’ve tried putting in earplugs before I begin my practise, although I don’t always remember to do so, and while they are not completely effective at blocking the snarl of the leaf blower, they do stop me from hearing the birdsong that accompanies the beginning of my practise.

So this week, when the low rumble that leads to a screaming whine indicated that the dreaded leaf-blower was being fired up, I decided not to pull away from either the sound or my own reaction to it. I felt my body tense and noted the tension; I heard my inward protest and let the wail go on as long as it wanted to; I acknowledged that I do not like this sound, and I do not control the source of this sound.

And then . . . . I started to wonder, what else might be here for me? And I remembered what I try to forget: that the pattern of sleep and waking that most suits my life, my body, my being and my choices includes rising around five in the morning. I know this, and yet – mysteriously- I fight it. I resist living according to the monastic pattern (at least in sleep and rising times) that appeals to my soul.

And here’s the thing: when I obey this deeper longing, when I arise at five, my practise of meditation, prayer, yoga and dream-writing is completed by eight when the leaf-blower is fired up. When the mechanical noise interrupts my practise it is because I have not followed my deeper impulse to rise before the sun and sit in the quiet of the dawning light. My irritation is laced with disappointment to have missed the time of day that sets my soul afire with possibilities.

Realizing this, I can’t help but smile. Suddenly beneath the roar of the leaf blower I can almost hear Rumi whisper:  “The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.”

Sometimes, the sounds that call us home are not all melodious.

~Oriah 2013

14 comments:

  1. Thanks! So pertinent!

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  2. that rumi quote is beautiful x

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  3. This is so inspiring and helpful and timely to me! Both about honoring the longing and need to rise early, and your beautiful way to embrace and greet the sounds and noises and Life around you.. Thank you, Oriah <3

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  4. That Rumi quotation helps me to accept the fact that I have to rise at six now (because of work reasons). I have been struggling with it - my biological clock wants me to sleep until eight, and I can allow this only on weekend days. I have been a little bit afraid of what it'll be like when darkness lingers at winter mornings, but "to rise before the sun and sit in the quiet of the dawning light" is a wonderful approach that opens some possibilities for me. Thanks a lot!

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    1. Nora, what a difference it can make when we feel our rising time is not entirely our own choice. And yes, each body has its own rhythm (that changes over time.) May you find some ease in what is necessary. :-)

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  5. Dear Oriah,

    The morning is mine, has been my mantra for years. Each morning I rise quickly at 5:30am to greet the stillness of the day that is mine to cherish for a short while. The breeze at dawn does whisper its secrets to me and to you. I do have to resist slightly the urge to go back to sleep, but the pull of dawn always wins.

    Between five and eight the morning is yours. Seize it with your hands lightly and hold it close to your heart. There is nothing more precious and mysterious than the dawn. Don't go back to sleep.

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    1. Fritz- GREAT mantra: The morning is mine. Yes! :-)

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  6. I'm very happy for you, Oriah, that as always, you have found a way to "rise above" (or sink into) the situation at hand. But for those of us NON-5am-ers (!) -- leaf blowers remain a menace!

    If I may be permitted an irreverent rant, I cannot think of a more ridiculous, useless piece of equipment than a leaf blower. They show up behind my balcony once a week on Tuesdays, happily filling my apartment with gas fumes while they blow dirt around the parking lot (something you do when you begin as early as March and fall leaves are nowhere to be seen). They're a private company funded by the Toronto Community Housing Corporation (ie taxpayers) and they are often so bored they do the same strip a half a dozen times. One week I caught a glimpse of one guy (there are two of them) "blowing" god knows what off the neck of his associate (I kid you not).

    I mean really -- what do leaf blowers accomplish?! Whatever they blow away is going to come right back when the wind picks up. And we (the public) are paying them to do this all over the city!

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    1. lol- I'm with ya Jess. Even putting aside the cost (which does matter) I still can't figure out what good they are- and anyone with a petition or other action to ban them can count on me! Having said that- as with many things- finding a way NOT to allow what I cannot instantly change or control to destroy my equanimity is always my immediate goal. And. . some days are better than others. :-)

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  7. Whatever happened to raking the grass/leaves into a big pile and then removing/composting/whatever them?

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    1. Yes, that's usually my mutter when I see one- buy a rake! :-)

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  8. I've been waking at around 4 for over 20 years I find it a magical time of day even in the winter. I have seen some amazing sunrises,I never use an alarm clock my body just wants to wake at that time.
    I'm moving to a city shortly thank you for giving me a perspective of how I should think of those noises in a city.
    Namaste

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    1. Myrka, ah how lucky for you. I used to be that way but as my aging and my chronic illness started to dovetail mornings after what they call "non-restorative sleep" are sometimes more of a struggle. May your move be smooooooooth. :-)

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