Author Archives: Paula Josa-Jones

staying in the center

I have been watching a video by horse guru and Aikido master Mark Rashid.  Today he demonstrated a centering concept from Aikido, and showed how by centering energy at a point just below the belt buckle (about a hand’s breadth below the navel), one could become unmoveable, steady, grounded.  The reason for doing this is to connect to and develop one’s softness, rather than relying on pure strength or muscle.

So today I rode from that place and the results were really surprising.  Both Sanne and Capprichio immediately reflected to me that I was doing something different, something that allowed them to relax and focus rather than brace.  I was amazed at the difference that it made to my sitting trot and my seat.  The image that I had was that my hips and pelvis were like the bulb of a big lotus, with roots traveling down my legs into the ground, and the leaves and stem rising up from the rich nourishment of the bulb.

Rashid also suggested looking at how much effort we expend for any given task, and see if there is a way to do less – use less muscle –  and instead harness our inner softness.  I realized that almost everything that I do has a higher, more muscled vibration than is necessary, and that when I drop my awareness and breathing into my center, I can do more with less effort.

Try it!

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wild sky

I caught this sky last week – a canopy of peach and plum, those colors of summer, of lushness, bare skin, juice dripping down your hand.  The cold is closing in, and the landscapes feel so barren, so brown, so lifeless.

My wife, Pam, says, “But look at all the colors!!!”  Where? I think.  What are you seeing?  She sees the red tips of the branches,  waves of subtle yellows, golds, oranges, even after the leaves have fallen and all that remains are those empty fields.  To her, they are full of color of delight.  I am more inclined to lean south – I yearn for hibiscus, for bouganvilla, for palm trees, for the broad green platters of sea grape leaves and the deep turquoise and cobalt of a tropical sea.

And yet, look at that sky with its startle of naked branches!

return of the poetry angel

Places I Have Heard the Ocean

by Faith Shearin

In a cat’s throat, in a shell I hold
to my ear — though I’m told
this is the sound of my own
blood. I have heard the ocean
in the city: cars against
the beach of our street. Or in
the subway, waiting for a train
that carries me like a current.
In my bed: place of high and low
tide or in my daughter’s skates,
rolling over the sidewalk.
Ocean in the trees when they
fill their heads with wind.
Ocean in the rise and fall:
lungs of everyone I love.

an animal among animals

This is how I want to feel with my horses, with my dogs and cats and even with my human companions.  Like an animal among animals.  Uncovered, included, revealed, in repose.  This painting by Franz Marc feels luxurious, pensive and intimate.  I love the way she is held in the curves and angles of the landscape and its inhabitants.  When I make my daily pilgrimage to the stable, that is what I am seeking – that quality of settling into presence, being present, sharing the moment.