Rise and Dream a better Dream … for the earth and all her people
Support and nurture inclusion,
Stand strong in our convictions
Of equality and choice.
Lead with courage and compassion,
Loving ourselves enough to stay
Awake and fearless.
March across, through and around
Boundaries created from hate, fear, judgment and privilege,
Untying the knots that have kept us
Bound and silent for too long.
Love this powerful, beautiful and bountiful earth
more than material gain.
Meet hunger and need with the currency of
Love, Compassion and Bounty for all,
Inspired by the First Stewards of these lands
Standing strong at Standing Rock.
Joni Takanikos
Whidbey Islanders ijoining the march in Seattle (Photo by Gina Burja-Simpson)Participants in the Langley Women’s March (Photo by David Welton)Participants in the Langley Women’s March (Photo by David Welton)A participant in the Langley Women’s March (Photo by David Welton)
This Sky
Where we live
Is no place to lose
Our wings
So love, love
Love.
Hafiz
Keeping our vision and hope along the road. (Photo by Gina Burja-Simpson)
Joni Takanikos considers herself first and foremost a poet; she is always attempting to distill the essence of Truth and Beauty through the pathways of her heart.
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The views, opinions, and positions expressed by Whidbey Life Magazine bloggers, as well as those of the people who comment on their blog posts, are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions, or positions of Whidbey Life Magazine.
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I am hopelessly in love with a land far, far away. My heart conjures this distant landscape most readily in the spring. It was March of 2011 when I met Ireland for the first time. On one of my first afternoon walks through the neighborhood of Carigtwohill, a rural suburb outside of Cork City, I was exposed to the Irish moon through a flock of cherry blossoms and, further down the old road, I met a family of swans. I was falling for Ireland, following her roads and finally finding my own heart.
A poet in Ireland, April 2011 (photo courtesy of the author)
I traveled the roads of the Emerald Isle, south to north, east to west, sometimes doubling back again like an extended children’s jump rope game of double Dutch. I watched carefully for the right time to jump in and be taken by the spring wind once more. More often than not it was an Irish person’s hand that held mine as I jumped in and followed their lead with a trusting traveler’s heart. These friendships lined the roadways like pots of gold at the end of rainbows that arced across the spring sky.
On my way back southwards from the Antrim Coast, where you can see Scotland from the beach, I was invited to stay in the home of some new friends who lived in Coleraine. Coleraine was a train stop along my route to Derry, then Sligo—Yeats country—and eventually Galway and the Arran Islands. Mick and Christine picked me up at the train station and brought me to their sweet home. They showed me my lovely room with my own bath, including slippers and a bathrobe.
I had dropped into five-star Irish hospitality indeed. I told them I would take the train to Derry in a day or two and they insisted that I stay longer so they could show me more of the sights in their area. I was fortunate enough to be on a three-month sabbatical so I happily accepted their gracious offer. My time with Mick and Christine was so beautiful and easy, their home and manners wrapped around me with the comfort of a favorite bathrobe.
Irish Moon between blossoms, March 2011 (photo by the author)
A highlight of my week was a trip to Kilcranny House, Peace and Reconciliation Centre, a four-acre farm established in 1985, dedicated to peace, diversity and the environment. Not only did Christine introduce me to the people who worked and volunteered there, but I was invited to be part of a project to plant trees along the drive leading to the farmhouse. I planted a few trees that day, and I was able to plant one tree, a Rowan, in memory of my Greek father, John, in the Irish soil in the spring. He would have loved the sentiment and the history that brought humans, the land, the tree and the birdsong of that morning in April—the month of his birth—to this few acres of farmland dedicated to peace and diversity. As our hands patted down the soil of his tree and others along the driveway, I felt my heart being planted as well.
Mick took me to the train station a week later. Of course he and Christine had prepared a delicious lunch and snacks for me to take on the train. Mick insisted on helping me get on the train with my bags and got me settled in my seat. As we were saying our goodbyes, the train began to move and Mick and I were pounding on the windows to get the stationmaster’s attention. They did stop the train to let Mick off, but we continued our waves goodbye until the train was far down the tracks. As I rode the train to Derry that day, eating my lunch, prepared by the hands of my friends, I knew I was leaving behind a part of my heart but I was also taking with me a heart that could afford to be broken and, in that shattering, a mosaic of beauty revealed.
Giant’s Causeway, April 2011 photo by author
On our own dear isle of Whidbey, the springtime is just beginning to unfold her colorful blankets amidst the backdrop of sun, rain, wind and the occasional frost, sharing the same stage, orating all at once. A sculpture exhibition, “Evoking Ireland” by Alexandra Morosco, opened at the Rob Schouten Gallery at Greenbank Farm on March 4. I drove to Greenbank that rainy evening to attend the opening. Stepping inside the packed gallery space, hearing Irish music from Randal Bays and friends wafting from the corner, seeing the stone that had been transformed to speak the language of the far off Emerald Isle and, of course, being in the company of friends and neighbors, my heart began to burst with love and longing for all I left in Ireland and all I had brought back with me.
The heart sends out powerful signals reaching across the seas because the next morning I received a message from an Irish friend in Cork City who asked me when I would be returning. Again and again is my answer.
Here is a fragment of an ancient Celtic poem:
I am an estuary to the sea
I am a wave of the ocean
I am the bull of seven battles
I am the eagle on the rock
I am a flash from the sun
I am the plant of beauty
I am a salmon in the pool
I am the strength of art…
Heart stone rooted in Ireland, April 2011 (photo by the author)
Perhaps it is no wonder that poets held the highest position in Irish society. Poetry in Ireland is not experienced through the lens of academia as much as it is felt viscerally and it is as important as breath and bread and butter.
If you want to experience Ireland this spring you can do it right here on Whidbey Island. Alexandra Morosco’s show, “Evoking Ireland,” at the Rob Schouten Gallery continues through Monday, March 28.
Green Realm, Antrim Glens, April 2011 (photo by the author)
Wednesday, March 23rd, from 3-5pm, one of my favorite island musicians, Kristi O’Donnell, of Irish and Estonian descent, will open her art show at Prima Bistro. For information www.kristio.com.
Please consider coming out to celebrate the shenanigans of spring on April 1 and 2, when I’ll be performing alongside other fabulous fools at Ott and Murphy Winery Tasting Room and Cabaret Stage for “A Fool’s Weekend,” each night a foolishly different performance that will include music, poetry, comedy, plenty of shenanigans, and lovely OM wine to open the buds of your heart and soul. $9 cover per show
“highly recommended” fools will include grand master fool himself, David Ossman, Judith Walcutt, Patricia Duff, Beverly Graham, Siri Bardarson, Max Cole-Takanikos, Natasha Nichols, and me, Joni Takanikos. Reservations also “highly recommended” @ 360.221.7131.
(Blog was edited to add new events 3/23/16)
Joni Takanikos is unabashedly in love with Ireland, poetry and springtime. She teaches yoga at Half Moon Yoga Studio in Langley Village. www.halfmoonyogalangley.com. Her favorite asana is vriksasana, tree pose.
WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.
I have practiced meditation since I was a teenager. It has anchored me while providing a lift to my life and, at times, sheer transcendence. I am by no means an expert in the field, but I have taken some field notes along the way. Here are some of them:
1. There are many ways to meditate.
2. It is simply a practice.
3. Meditation contains stillness, whether the body is moving or remains as still as a statue.
4. You can practice meditation in any field—a pasture, a cathedral or a crowded airport.
5. Even a five-minute practice will have an impact.
6. Once you have stood in the center of your own field, you will have a strong heart sense of how to return.
7. Meditation is an enormous boon to creativity.
Finding the Center (photo by Gina Burja-Simpson)
I came to the practice of meditation through the ever expanding corridors of yoga. I continue to explore this path in different forms and as teachers present themselves, but from this exploration a simple everyday practice has emerged: the practice of sitting or lying still, following my breath and watching my thoughts and feelings drift by like clouds. Of course, some clouds are more dense and heavy than others, and they may occupy the space of your mind like a weather pattern you wish were different. Accepting the mind is similar to accepting the weather.
A friend recently shared with me a quote from the writer and meditation teacher Adyashanti, “If you want to suffer, argue with what is.” I have adopted this as my mantra. “Mantra” in Sanskrit translates as “a tool for the mind,” and Adyashanti’s quote is one of my favorite new tools for finding and keeping myself centered.
There are many ways to begin a meditation practice. If sitting is difficult, you might begin by lying down, closing your eyes and following the flow of your breath for five minutes. It helps to relax the throat, jaw and tongue so the flow of air is not constricted.
Universal Field (photo by Joni Takanikos)
This simple method can open up rooms in the mind and body you may have been neglecting. It helps to open the doors and windows inside our body for this fresh air to enter. The breath is a powerful gatekeeper and longs for a more intimate relationship with our bodies. In the yogic philosophy, the breath is called “prana,” a Sanskrit word that translates to “vital energy.” Prana, this vital energy, is easily accessed through simple breath awareness. If you follow the breath as if it were a beautiful piece of music, it will naturally expand and unfurl, making itself truly known to you, perhaps eventually becoming symphonic in nature. Physiologically, you will drop into your parasympathetic system, which can regulate and calm the central nervous system.
Meditations on a Sedum (photo by Gina Burja-Simpson)
Dancing, walking, doing dishes…all of these activities can easily and gracefully become our meditation as we follow the wind of our breath and practice letting our thoughts and feelings simply arise and drift off. This happens more naturally when we practice awareness of thoughts without attachment. Thích Nhãt Hanh, monk and author of Stepping into Freedom:Rules of Monastic Practice for Novices says, “Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor.”
Amit Ray, author of Om Chanting and Meditation, says, “If you want to conquer the anxiety of life, live in the moment, live in the breath.”
A friend of mine recently called to tell me that no matter how hard he tried to meditate, he was unable to because his mind was full of thoughts. He said, “I’m not like you! I can’t just empty my mind and be peaceful.” I laughed and explained that my mind was also full of thoughts. I don’t know anyone who meditates who doesn’t have a parade of thoughts; this is the nature of our mind. It enables me to write my thoughts down on this paper right now. I have found that the freedom that comes through a regular practice of meditation, noticing thoughts come and go without attachment to them, does create a stillness and peace which tends to stay with me through my day. When my “thinking” begins to take over, I can more easily notice this “train of thought” without being overtaken by it. In my yoga practice—both on and off the mat—I often take a deep breath, and on the exhalation I bow my head to my heart. This simple surrender of the head to the heart will lead you towards beautiful and peaceful fields, fields that are always just around the corner from your present state of mind. Pema Chödrön, author of When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times, says “You are the sky. Everything else—it’s just the weather.”
A certain Stillness (photo by Gina Burja-Simpson)
Here are just a few of the many places to practice meditation, all by donation, with teachers here on Whidbey Island:
Half Moon Yoga Studio in Langley with Sarah Manchester halfmoonyogalangley.com
Yeshe Long House with Kilung Jigme Rinpoche: pemakilaya.org
Joni Takanikos teaches yoga at Half Moon Yoga Studio in Langley. She is also a poet, singer and performer ever in search of Truth and Beauty in all the fields.
WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.
I will be the first to admit how much I love my possessions, my beloved treasures that hold beauty and memory. They reside in two places at once, past and present, straddling the worlds both visible and unseen.
Emerald Isle
To prepare for a three-month sabbatical to Ireland in 2011, I gave away many of my possessions. For those treasured items I could not part with, I found a few friends willing to store a few boxes. When I returned home from my sabbatical, my life had been changed profoundly; I wanted to follow that thread of change. Part of my new journey seemed to include the need to be unencumbered by nothing more than a few suitcases.
I inhabited my beautiful island home by house-sitting for friends. This allowed me to have periods of travel: back to Ireland for two months, California for six weeks, Costa Rica for a month, the Netherlands and France for a short stay. Grand adventures, indeed! As a house-sitter I was surrounded by other peoples’ things, and that gave me a chance to reflect on “stuff” I had no personal history with. I have always loved looking at curios of all sorts, and it was lovely to explore my friends’ collections of objet d’art, books, paintings and photos.
Corner songs (photo by Joni Takanikos)
I especially love the look of a shelf or table that has been lovingly curated. It becomes an altar for my eyes and heart to visit, and it allows me to lose track of my own wandering thoughts in a way that brings me back home to myself. I was with a friend at SAM many years ago and we were “lost” in an exhibit, a room full of cabinets of curios, carefully curated. As we silently made our way through the exhibit, gazing through the glass onto shelves that told story after story through the arrangement of the objects within, my friend turned to me and whispered, “This exhibit reminds me of your house.”
I loved her comment and took it to heart. I have a fondness for putting things together, letting each curious object—whether a book, photo, rock or dozens of other possible things—be in relationship to each other, playing with space and proximity. Once I had some interesting metal noise makers from a New Year’s Eve party that found their way around different parts of the house and each spot in turn was enlivened by their silent promise of noise making.
Curios in relationship (photo by Joni Takanikos)
Most of my “stuff” at the present time occupies one small room. While I love most everything in my room, I exercise the need to fill a bag or two of stuff, even things I love, to drop off at Good Cheer or give to friends. This cycle needs to happen at least every couple of months. You see, I have wonderful friends who frequently give me lovely things that I need to incorporate into my room. Without this pruning of possessions, this careful curation of my “life exhibit,” I can start to feel crowded, heavy and dense, just like my room would. Perhaps this is why “sacred space” is often so spare. It makes room for contemplation.
In my zeal to not become surrounded by stacks of old New Yorker magazines, lovely birthday cards containing proof of love and affection, and twenty sweaters instead of ten, I have donated or given away many things I may later even come to regret. But in the end this pruning back is necessary and must remain continuous throughout the year to deal with this growing thicket of “stuff.”
Love, memory and dreams (photo by Joni Takanikos)
My dearest friend, Virginia Burja Simpson, while discussing the dilemma of stuff, said, ” All I want to leave behind is a poem and a puff of pink smoke.” In that spirit, I offer you one poem on the subject (and admit I have more than a boxful of them).
UNTITLED
“It’s not the load, it’s how you carry it.”—Lena Horne
I have carried a handful of letters for over thirty years. Full of pain, misery, despair and love. I keep them like sentries at the gate of The Trauma.
They have migrated to different houses through the years but have stayed in the same nondescript brown and beige file box. They swim in the too-large box, but at least they have plenty of air to breathe.
Right now they ride in the trunk of my car, traveling the island roads, and the potholes of my long driveway. These letters I cannot seem to let go of, although the paper will eventually crumble, the plastic file box may go on forever.
-Joni Takanikos
So, if you find you have stuff you are not using, why not donate it to a local charity like Good Cheer, Habitat for Humanity, Waif or Senior Thrift? And while I would not advocate a nomadic lifestyle for everyone, I suspect most of us could be better served by lightening our load.
Now just imagine this blog ends in a puff of pink smoke.
Joni Takanikos lives, writes, performs, teaches yoga and collects some lovely “stuff” right here on Whidbey Island.
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WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.
Fallen branch in springtime Gone before the bloom.
Spring is a dangerous time of year. Delicate buds form on the branches, new shoots push up from the dark underground and we human beings clean out our closets, wash the windows and picnic on the warm green grass.
But amidst these gentle breezes and warm sunny days, a thundercloud may suddenly form or a roaring wind blows from out of nowhere, it seems. Or, worse yet, a sudden freeze comes in the night. Picnics are canceled, trees and branches come down and some of the fragile new shoots and sweet buds of spring will not survive the dangers of their new beginnings.
Photo by Joni Takanikos
A new transplant to our island recently asked me this perennial question on a recent picture-perfect day: “Is it always like this in Spring?” I answered truthfully, “Yes, it is always this beautiful, and spring is capricious and she could change her mind about this warmth and blue sky any minute.”
I recently experienced a day that was bookended by the celebration of two friends. One of them is nearing the end of her life at the age of 69 and many had gathered around her bedside to tell her how profoundly she had affected their lives with her gentle ways and teachings. The other celebrated his 80th birthday with a lively bash that reflected his incredible vitality and passion for life. We really cannot know what wind, thunderstorm, freeze or dream will take us from this life; we can only continue to push through the underground darkness of winter to proclaim our new beginnings each and every day throughout all our seasons.
I am a student and a teacher of yoga and find myself continually astounded by the vast richness of this field of enquiry and study. I suppose it is well fertilized by my passionate relationship to it.
Just today, on this glorious spring cycle of sun, rain and yet more sun, I have learned that one of Pantanjali’s Eight Limbs of Yoga—pranayama—which I have always known as the “study of the breath,” may also be translated from the Sanskrit with a deeper meaning. Pranyama can mean “to expand the awareness or to expand the dimension of the vital force.” And I discovered that pranayama itself does not live in the breath but, instead, resides in the space between the inhalation and the exhalation.
Photo b y Joni Takanikos
This beautiful bud of new wisdom comes to me in the field of spring, forty-two years into my relationship with yoga. This is the renewal and beginning that is always with us, in between each breath, but is especially felt in this season when all around us nature is daring to let its new growth come forth with courage and the hope that all will be well no matter what comes.
Joni Takanikos is a poet, singer and gardener. She teaches Chandra yoga at Half Moon Yoga Studio in Langley Village. She is sending out her new shoots come what may, always hoping for sweetness to take root and buds to blossom.
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WLM stories and blogs are copyrighted and all rights are reserved. Linking is permitted. To request permission to use or reprint content from this site, email info@whidbeylifemagazine.org.
As I write this post, the year has not yet turned, but I can feel it beginning.
I avoid revolving doors when I can, but, ready or not, I am entering a new year in a mere two days’ time.
After the spinning top of these sweet, literally sweet, festive holidays, it is time to take stock of what to bring forward, and perhaps what to leave behind.
On New Year’s Day or Eve, I make a list of what I would envision for my life in the coming year. I am often surprised by how many of those visions come to pass by the end of the year. So while we are often encouraged to make resolutions to give up a bad habit or two, I would rather concentrate on seeding some good habits and experiences. It seems that if we are driving on the road of healthy pursuits, many of those lesser habits get left on the roadside, as we no longer have room for them in our trunk of goodies.
So I am going to make a guest list of what I want to invite into my life this year, and I expect that any of those lingering negative guests will have no room at my party, and simply slink away into the night.
As I prepare for a glorious night of New Year’s Eve dancing and merriment on this lovely island in Puget Sound, I give thanks for this beautiful land I reside on. And for all of us who live here together, in a mostly cooperative spirit, inspired by the starlit sky, the birds, the animals, and the woods — this place on earth that enlivens all our days in uncountable ways — I wish you a Happy New Year filled with sweet passion and joy.
There are so many lovely walking trails, parks and beaches on Whidbey Island. One of my favorite walks is Ebey’s Landing; I think I will begin my new year there, walking the bluff and envisioning a 2014 filled with Truth and Beauty.
My trek on Ebey’s Landing. / Photo by R. Halmans
The Turning
This wind moves through us
Catches on the branches of longing,
The still places we return to,
Those sighs and shudders turn
their heads to face east.
Never mind casting about to raise
the sails, because a steady wind
Underlies the mooring,
Each wind a pillow, anchoring
Our navigation systems
To the stars.
Joni Takanikos is a traveling poet, singer and a yoga teacher at Half Moon Yoga in Langley, ever grateful to live on this revolving piece of earth we call Whidbey Island.
