Sunday, July 21, 2013

Point

noun

  • the tapered, sharp end of a tool, weapon, or other object
  • Archaeology a pointed flake or blade, especially one that has been worked
  • Ballet another term for pointe.
  • Boxing the tip of a person’s chin as a spot for a blow.
  • the prong of a deer’s antler.
  • a dot or other punctuation mark, in particular a period.
  • a decimal point
  • a dot or small stroke used in the alphabets of Semitic languages to indicate vowels or distinguish particular consonants.
  • a very small dot or mark on a surface
  • a particular spot, place, or position in an area or on a map, object, or surface
  • a particular moment in time or stage in a process
  • (usually the point) the critical or decisive moment
  • (the point of) the verge or brink of (doing or being something)
  • [usually with modifier] a stage or level at which a change of state occurs
  • (in geometry) something having position but not spatial extent, magnitude, dimension, or direction, for example the intersection of two lines.
  • [with modifier] British a wall outlet or jack
  • a single item or detail in an extended discussion, list, or text
  • an argument or idea put forward by a person in discussion
  • (usually the point) the significant or essential element of what is intended or being discussed
  • [in singular, usually with negative or in questions] advantage or purpose that can be gained from doing something
  • relevance or effectiveness.
  • a distinctive feature or characteristic, typically a good one, of a person or thing
  • (in sports and games) a mark or unit of scoring:he scored 13 of his team’s final 19 points against Houston
  • a unit used in measuring value, achievement, or extent
  • an advantage or success in an argument or discussion
  • a unit of credit toward an award or benefit.
  • a percentage of the profits from a movie or recording offered to certain people involved in its production.
  • a punishment imposed by the courts for a driving offense and recorded cumulatively on a person’s driver’s license
  • a unit of weight (one hundredth of a carat, or 2 mg) for diamonds.
  • a unit of varying value, used in quoting the price of stocks, bonds, or futures.
  • each of thirty-two directions marked at equal distances around a compass.
  • the corresponding direction toward the horizon.
  • the angular interval between two successive points of a compass, i.e., one eighth of a right angle (11° 15สน).
  • (points ——) unspecified places considered in terms of their direction from a specified place
  • a narrow piece of land jutting out into a lake or ocean:the boat came around the point [in names]
  • Printing a unit of measurement for type sizes and spacing, which in the US and UK is one twelfth of a pica, or 0.013835 inch (0.351 mm), and in Europe is 0.015 inch (0.376 mm).
  • Basketball a frontcourt position, usually manned by the guard who sets up the team’s defense.
  • Ice Hockey either of two areas in each attacking zone, just inside the blue line where it meets the boards.
  • (usually points) each of a set of electrical contacts in the distributor of a motor vehicle.
  • a small leading party of an advanced guard of troops.
  • chiefly North American the position at the head of a column or wedge of troops
  • chiefly North American short for point man.
  • (usually points) the extremities of an animal, typically a horse or cat, such as the face, paws, and tail of a Siamese cat.
  • Hunting a spot to which a straight run is made.
  • a straight run
  • (usually points) historical a tagged piece of ribbon or cord used for lacing a garment or attaching breeches to a doublet.
  • a short piece of cord for tying up a reef in a sail.
  • the action or position of a dog in pointing:a bird dog on point
  • Music an important phrase or subject, especially in a contrapuntal composition.

verb

  • [no object] direct someone’s attention to the position or direction of something, typically by extending one’s finger
  • [with adverbial of direction] indicate a particular time, direction, or reading
  • [with object] direct or aim (something) at someone or something
  • [with adverbial of direction] face or be turned in a particular direction
  • [with adverbial] cite or put forward a fact or situation as evidence of something
  • (point to) (of a situation) be evidence or an indication that (something) is likely to happen or be the case
  • [with object] (of a dog) indicate the presence of (game) by acting as pointer.
  • [with object] chiefly Ballet extend (the toes or feet) by tensing the foot and ankle so as to form a point.
  • [with object] give force or emphasis to (words or actions)
  • [with object] fill in or repair the joints of (brickwork, a brick structure, or tiling) with smoothly finished mortar or cement.
  • [with object] give a sharp, tapered point to
  • [with object] insert points in (written Hebrew).
  • mark (Psalms) with signs for chanting.
 
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Over the past three or so days, I've spent time contemplating how one lives in the present moment at an event held on a local college campus.  The Gathering, as it is known, is held every year and the topics have varied widely.  You can read more about the event here: www.thegatheringatkeystone.org.  This year's theme was The Art of the Living Moment. 
 
Thursday evening, the event opened with a ceremony conducted by the lamas of the Drepung Loseling Tibetan Monastery, in which they consecrated the space where they'd create a sacred sand mandala. For those of you unfamiliar with mandala, it is a Sanskrit word which means "circle" and they have been used in a number of different traditions throughout time.

Friday and Saturday I attended lectures and workshops, four hours yesterday of which involved creating a personal mandala.  After an opening meditation in a hot, incense-filled room, we learned more about mandalas, discussed the materials we'd be using, and began to answer a series of questions in which we'd identify those things most important and most uniquely our own.  The process then began to translate these words and concepts into a representative symbol, after which we began to plan and then paint our mandala utilizing the symbols identified.
 
As I answered questions--little, pointed questions--I watched the stars they tossed one by one into the air above me.  Several of these points of light caused my eyes to tear.  And as the words, as the points, as the stars connected, threading together an understanding of myself I'd never quite had before, the images came as though they were constellations.  Points connected.
 
Yesterday ended with a talk given by one of my favorite writers, Diane Ackerman, author of numerous books of poetry and prose.  This morning, Diane and author Whitney Stewart held a conversation for about an hour and while I wrote down numerous points I will return to when the time is what the time need be, it was the discussion Diane offered in one short phrase which turned the experience of the conference into something extraordinary.  It shifted perspective.  It was the point.  She said, in talking to Whitney regarding a challenge in writing, that you must look for the access point into the story. 
 
The access point.
 
Into the story.
 
What is your point?  What is my point?  How do we enter ourselves in a way that we can start to lay out the stars so that constellations will appear and turn bright enough that they might illuminate not only our own paths but the paths of others?
 
The final event of the day and of the conference was the completion, blessing, and subsequent dismantling of the sand mandala created by the lamas, symbolizing the transience of all things, even beauty.  I stood, listening to the sound of the instruments used to lay the intricate patterns and images of colored sand, and watched as the final line was laid. 
 
I sat in awe as the lamas blessed the completed mandala.



And as the closing ceremony moved forward, I began to cry as soon as the first swipe of a finger pushed away the sand, before a lama brushed the remainder into a pile in the center of the table.  I received a small bag of that sand, as did many others, before we processed behind the monks to the creek which runs through the campus to empty the remaining sand-- sand infused with the blessings for peace.

After I received my bag of sand, I walked to the bathroom.  In the bathroom, the art instructor from the previous day's mandala workshop dabbed her eyes dry.  I told her I was glad I wasn't the only one crying.  We both cried more deeply as we talked with one another.  It was in her workshop where the emotion that had been building slowly started to come out-- the questions-- the quick, honest, personal answers we have for ourselves when we need only answer them for ourselves.  Because in those moments, we aren't worrying about pleasing others.  Those moments are the point.

In a mandala, we learned, is a point called a bindu.  The bindu, Sanskrit for "drop", is the focal point of the mandala.  It is the center, the calm, the stillpoint. 

In the center of each of us, though sometimes it is difficult to remember, is this same stillpoint.  To get there, we need to create enough space in which we can see and hear and feel and taste and smell the reality of the world in which we move.  But we can be still.  And when we reach that point, we cry.  There aren't words.  There are tears.  And the tears are for all feelings--for joy and sadness and grief and happiness.  The tears are for all beings--for animals and humans like ourselves and unlike ourselves.  The tears are for all the ways we overlap-- in all the places where our own circles intertwine from that access point.

This week, ask yourself, what is the point of access for you into yourself, into your family, into your world, into your calling, into your emotions, into your work.  Ask yourself questions in the quiet space you deserve.  Feel the energy you distribute and ask more questions.  Answer in words and move words to images and then, when the images come, let the points of light create constellations in the darkness of the summer sky.




 


 
 
 
 

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