Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I have a dilema with a cousin of mine.  I had not seen or spoken to her since childhood, except for seeing her at a wedding twelve or more years ago.  She lives in the midwest, and our paths never crossed.  When my brother died she sent a kind note.  Then she called and soon she wanted to tell me all of her and her husband's troubles.  I thought I'd done a sensitive job of discouraging her.  But in her holiday card she brings up the health issues of her and her husband again and says she's going to call.  I don't know if this is lack of boundaries, lonliness or hope that I will help them monetarily.  It feels icky and inappropriate, and though I stayed with her family a couple of times when my mother, brother and I visited, mainly I stayed with another cousin or her mother, my aunt.  There is no intimacy to rekindle.

I know people when they get older look people up, get very sentimental, and want to "friend" people, but I'm much more private than that.  I'm not on Facebook, because I don't want to  have to respond to people I went to school with 50 years ago and read about their lives.  I want a REAL connection or none.  If that makes me a Luddite or stuffy, so be it.  This cousin has been whining to me when supposedly she was offering me sympathy at the loss of her brother.  I don't feel supported; I feel beleagured.  What to say?  Again, I will express my sympathy while offering nothing beyond it.  I am not going to write her a check, or visit, or extend myself.  I have plenty of cousins, and keep in contact with the two who've been there for me at every turn.  But this cousin is a stranger, and I feel there is nothing to build on. 

But restraining myself to formal politeness feels awful as well.  I'm pushed into a corner, and she gives me no leeway.  It's challenging.  I feel like all I can really do is pray for her children or sister or brother to aid her.  I feel guilty.  But I cannot feel what I don't feel:  any responsibility.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I called my dear cousin today.  I hadn't called in a couple of years.  I learned a wonderful thing by doing so:  my brother had written to her occasionally up until the time he stopped communicating with me.  So he had reached out to someone in the family besides myself.  That touches me.  I also reaffirmed my love for her and on the same day she had been to the funeral of a dear friend of hers.  Did I instinctively know to comfort her?  It's mysterious.  We caught up about our children and grandchildren and reminisced about her mother, whom I adored and my parents who were so good to her.  Both of us know one of us may die before we speak again, and we expressed our love and gratitude for each other.

It was so easy.  Even the part about talking about my brother's death.  My cousin is a truly beautiful soul.  It's been and still is a privilege to know her.  I'm so glad I reached out.  This holiday season is good for the impulse to reach out.  To say the things we often only think about but don't express.  We want to face the new year and it's challenges by clearing up the undone soul tasks of the old year.  I feel lighter and happier for having done so.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Negotiating how much to say about my kids to each other is challenging.  I don't want to betray confidences or criticize.  My default position is to listen and not comment, yet I find myself explaining or defending the subject if I'm not careful.  Normal worry or noticing something seems okay to discuss.  But sometimes I know more and other times less.  What about "filling in".  Tricky territory.

I had a fun time today with my daughter, but I was more silent than usual because I didn't feel comfortable about certain subjects, either because I didn't trust myself or I didn't want to worry her.  This second guessing is a bad habit of mine.  My caretaker mode goes into hyper drive and I get delusions of power.  I think I "know" things.  Very dangerous territory for me.  I'm better off being curious about another's "take" on a situation.  Then I learn something.  But what contortions I go through at times to get to that place of being open and curious.  I often begin from old stale thoughts that are really only suppositions. 

I at least know some of my own mind patterns and try to counter them quickly.  And that is the degree of progress I've gotten to at this point.  And I ain't no spring chicken!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our family is disinclined to hyperbole, and reticent about flattery.  One of our son-in-laws is effusive in his compliments,  often speaking of his "beautiful wife" and the genius of his sons and his own accomplishments.  It rubs me the wrong way, but what annoys you should be examined, and I was doing that yesterday.  Why should it bother me?  Because it's not "our" way of speaking?  He has every right to his own flowery speech, and it doesn't harm anyone.  My impulse when someone goes on and on is to doubt the authenticity of the speech.  But why?  It's not fair to him.

So I'm thinking he has something to teach the rest of the family about speaking emotionally and complimenting others.  I'm excellent at thanking people for their help and efforts and concerns.  That's my strong point.  But he does that very well.  So it comes down to difference in style, not substance, and perhaps I could be more enthusiastic, and take a page from his book.  Judgment comes up mainly because my family didn't "toot their own horn" or over praise.  He has a right to his own expression, and I intend to be open minded about it and even, just possibly, learn something.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A week of parties and the kids and grandkids and sheer joy.  The right speech aura was upon us.  Only the seven year old had a few slip ups, and that is to be expected.  The boys are older and wiser about what they say.  They have good manners.  I felt like this was the best Christmas ever, as we are all making such an effort to get along and compromise and accommodate.  I hope my efforts the last few years have subtly caused a change in atmosphere, and my husband has been working on keeping his negative thoughts to himself.  It all shows in good cheer and feelings of love and belonging.

Now I'm kind of all talked out and want to read, go to the movies and relax.  But I'm so grateful that the week went well, and it sends a glow on into the new year.  I'm at peace.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been cooking all day for our holiday party tomorrow.  Eventually, almost everyone rsvped, which is good.  We are having a herd, so I made a second trifle and lots of small rotis.  Tomorrow is the big cookout, and others will be beside me working, but today was quiet and I listened to CDs of Christmas music, which I love.  The anxiety of the party has dissolved, and now I'm in a state of happy anticipation.  My older daughter, her husband and their three children will arrive, which is part of the anticipation.  The party means friendship to me, and I value my friends so very much.  This is what I do to express my gratitude.  My son, who has been co-hosting with me for the last few years, is clearly of the same mindset, and he stablizes me and makes the whole planning thing fun and interesting. 

I attempt to have all the food ready before guests arrive, so I can chat with people and admire the small children of my son's friends.  I love seeing the awe at the tree, and my snow globes are a big hit with the little ones.  I love it that this year all four of our kids will be here with their spouses and children.  It's special.

So right now, the Christmas songs are right speech for me, talking of love and peace and joy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A friend and I were discussing the Dalai Lama turning 80, and that he has said he will be the last, and the office will not be passed on.  She was upset, and I understand her grief, but I feel when I hear him say this, it is a lesson in how everything changes.  The Chinese have torn out the Tibetan culture by the roots and inserted Han Chinese in its place.  They may also pick their own heir as Dalai Lama, as they have with other Lamas, so the tradition is sabotaged and corrupted.  Tibetans have had to adjust to new lands and cultures, and it looks like there is no going back in the foreseeable future.  We all must adapt to change, and hope a new path for the dharma is born.

Change is the one constant.  When we trust that truth, and speak it, we aid people in seeing what is so.  Everything is evolving and transforming, including us.  But each time something dies something new is born.  Last year my brother died and my grandson was born.  I felt both deeply.  I will not be around for most of my grandson's life, but he exists, as do my other grandchildren, and I take comfort in them and the cycle of life.  This is what humanity is.  We can fiddle with this and that and pretend we have control over our lives, or we can enjoy our brief time upon this beautiful earth and treasure its gifts.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

On Monday I went to the eye doctor, and again I was impressed with how genuine he seems.  He talked about waiting in a long line at Trader Joe's, because his wife had sent him for one thing, and it took him forty minutes in line.  That was after immediately apologising for taking so long to see me.  I said it's the season of waiting and practicing patience, and relayed my own account of going to Costco with my son to shop for our holiday party.  His cheerfulness and the ordinary, relaxed nature of what he was saying makes me trust him all the more.  He's a real person seeing us as real people and not authoritarian or rushed at all.

He has a gift, and he reaps the reward of making his patients more cheerful and less fearful.  I calm down in his presence.

I've been attempting to emulate him in my interactions since the appointment, and I have a good job, I think.  But last night I woke up and worked myself into a panic about the holidays, and not being able to find papadums for the party and needing to figure out how the diaper pail and portacrib I bought for our grandson to use while here could possibly work.  When I got up this morning, I took two tylenol and repeated to myself ten times "it will all work out".  When I told my husband about my sleeplessness he immediately offered to do anything to help, and I realized I need to take him up on it.  Nothing needs to be perfect, there is plenty of family to help, and we're all in the long line to the destination of Christmas.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my husband got very angry at our Christmas tree.  It was a bit crooked on the bottom, and I held it up for 30 minutes until he threw it down and stormed off.  This is the man who's son had offered to help him with the tree, but he was too manly to accept.  I know he was angry at himself, but he was dreadful to be around.  Luckily, I was having lunch with a friend and I stayed out as long as I could, and he had calmed down.  He hadn't gotten lunch, but if he was trying to punish me, no such luck.  I do not feel responsible for the tree, the difficulty, or his mood.

Over the years, I've learned to not argue with him, or try to make him feel better.  I don't say a word, and when he's ready he begins speaking to me rationally.  It's still stressful for me, but I have abdicated any responsibility for whatever upsets him.  It's his mindstream.  I am busy minding my own.

Thus there are few scenes or circular arguments, and each of us takes responsibility for our own happiness.  I don't enjoy seeing him upset, but I don't let him upset me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

What is right speech for weather people?  We see a lot of hyperbole and story spun out of scant possibilities.  Today in both newspapers there were big articles on El Nino, though the storm supposedly hitting us last night was a bit of spitting.  There is a need for forecast, so one can judge the perils of biking vs the bus, and consider grabbing an umbrella.  For car commuters, it helps to know this underpass is flooded and that road may be shortly.

But then it gets crazy:  dire predictions, scare tactics, wind warnings, stories of the tree falling on a house and crushing the owner, video of the tornado taken from a truck right in its path, pictures of a flooded back yard, seen over and over again.  This part is not weather, it is high drama.  Anything to catch your eye.  Ratings over reality.  The desperation of the lonely weather channel.  Not right speech, not truth or anything close to it, not helpful, but to some, entertaining.

It would be nice if the weather people could stick to what is happening today.  Be in the moment, so we could deal with what is likely on our plate right now, instead of obsessing  over the house or car floating or blowing away.  Their job is to help us stay practical and safe.  I know, it's boring, and they get tired up there on planet TV.  But less prediction and more guidance on how to get from here to there right now, today, would be helpful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I pick up my foster granddaughter from school.  I've been letting her choose what we do, and was relieved last week when she wanted to bake at my house.  Today, though, I'm going to have to exercise a bit of guidance, as it's our daughter's birthday and I must get my granddaughter home in time to rush back, change and be ready for an early pick up to go to the restaurant.  Usually, I give over the afternoon to her, and even if initial aversion comes up, I flow with her plan and end up enjoying it.  I'm curious about her interests and opinions, and we talk when we're in the car about her plans and how school and chorus and piano are going.  I try to de-pressurize everything.  After all, she's had a full day at school and then chorus rehearsal. 

I've learned so much from taking this tact of giving her control over our time together.  I've been educated about rabbits, dogs and many other creatures.  We've drawn countless pictures together and made many presents, sewing some on my sewing machine.  And I've seen her go from a baby who lost her dad to cancer, to a toddler, to a kindergartener, to a preteen 5th grader.  She has a new dad who has adopted her, a three year old sister, a new house, school, life.  I've seen her miserable and filled with joy.  I was with her when her dad called to say her mother was in labor and to come right home.  I taken photos at countless concerts, shows and softball games. 

I had an impulse to help that has given me infinite rewards.  I definitely want to keep going with that flow that took me to an amazing child.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

President Obama is asking Muslims to speak up about suspicious persons, and I understand his wanting the people probably most likely to hear something disturbing to help identify dangerous people.  But everyone should speak up if a threat or danger seems possible, including people who know mentally ill people with arsenals, people who overhear threats or "crazy talk".  Yet we all know why people are hesitant:  fear of reprisals, fear of scapegoating, lack of confidence in their own observations.  Possibly it all hinges on whether or not we believe in interdependence or individualism, and how compassionate feel toward others. 

What would I do?  I hope I would have the courage to speak to authorities in order to possibly prevent others from being harmed.  But I would be afraid.  I would probably be second guessing my perceptions.  If I'm honest I would have to say it would be a struggle for me.  The San Bernadino attack has caused me to wonder if some of my neighbors have guns.  I have been assuming I'm in a liberal enclave, but what do I know?  After my father died, my brother and I discovered he had a handgun in the closet.  My brother turned it in to the city police station.  When my brother died I found a rifle, pellet guns, and machetes, and he killed himself with a handgun.  I'd had no clue he had any of these weapons.  I didn't even know what was going on in my own family.  These weapons were no doubt meant as defensive, but their existence was disturbing.  Would my brother have killed himself if he hadn't had a gun at the ready? 

This territory is fraught with fear and confusion.  We certainly can no longer pretend guns haven't entered our worlds, for they are ubiquitous.  What we need is stricter control and more unheated dialogues about our responsibilities and our fears.  It falls on all our shoulders to protect in ways that are preventative, and we need perhaps to know more about what constitutes danger signs.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm practicing being extra kind to salespeople this season.  I thank them profusely, as when the transgender salesperson at Crate and Barrel tried her best to get me five more red pillows like the one I brought up to the counter.  First the computer didn't work, then she had to call up the warehouse, and then, after many minutes, no, there were no more, which is undoubtedly why they were on sale.  I thanked her for all her efforts.  I thanked every person in Nordstrom, and let them help me, which I normally wouldn't do but why not, really?  They didn't actually help much, but I was grateful, and one guided me in the right direction.  The Macy's person was very considerate, as a pushy lady was trying to get in ahead of me but the salesperson made sure I was taken care of first, without me saying anything.

What a tough time of the year for them!  Decades ago I was a salesperson at J.C. Penney for the holiday season, and the abuse I endured has made me extra sensitive ever since.  And it made me go to graduate school so I wouldn't ever have to have such a job again.  But there by the grace....

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

What to say.  There are no words.  Until yesterday I hadn't realized there is a mass shooting every day in the U.S.  So actions of the few speak for all of us as Americans.  Do we not think it will happen to us?  We should be forcing Congress to enact some limits on firearms, but though the majority of us agree something must be done to keep guns out of the hands of people suffering from mental illness and children and that assault rifles are not for hunting game, we do nothing.  And people die.  Every single day.  Already we turn off on side streets to avoid drivers with road rage, we leave stores when people are shouting at each other, we pick up our kids early from school from a prick of fear.  These gun owners have changed our lives. 

I saw yesterday that in Norway almost 900 people had registered to hunt down 16 wolves, from an almost extinct population of 34 wolves.  And that is just people who obeyed the rules.  So there are dozens of people with heavy firepower bumping into each other to kill a beautiful animal that is being driven from all habits.

I'm beginning to feel that we in the U.S. are being driven away from our habitats and habits.  Maybe we are such couch potatoes out of fear.  "It's a jungle out there" has literally become true, with rage and hatred run rampant and the seeming only alternative is to turn up the firepower and blast each other to oblivion.  What is this craziness?  We can't run from it, we can't hide from it.  It is time to insist on sanity in Congress and begin to stop letting the few terrorize the rest of us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

On Monday night, I felt a bit disconnected from my writing group.  I hadn't been in two times, which was over a month and people seemed uninterested in my writing, probably because it was from weeks ago and never got discussed.  I warmed up when other people began reading their pieces, and I realized again how talented my friends are.  Each person's writing is completely different but equally engaging.  At the end of the meeting we did quick writes and then read them to each other.  One of my friends wrote a piece off the top of her head so hilarious that I laughed for about five minutes.  I couldn't stop.  Her writing especially appeals to me, anyway, but this off the top of the head page was so goofy and wise at the same time.  Joy bubbled up in me and burst out.

Speaking with each other the way we do, confidentially, has meant a loosening up and bursts of amazing creativity.  Our voices are heard in a safe place, among friends and buddies, swim buddies, and we are all growing in our writing by leaps and bounds.  To be a part of this hub of creativity is thrilling, and I left the group reconnected and re-energized.  They have my back and I have theirs.  How fortunate we are!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Maybe it is too difficult to have a line that even hate speech must not cross.  But hate speech has become a spur to violence, a veritable encouragement to those who are filled with nameless rage and willing to act on it.  I'd like to see media voluntarily refuse to broadcast such speech, instead of lapping it up like cream.  This is not journalism.  This is bread and circuses.  Innocent people are being harmed each time words become action.

Perhaps sponsors could take the lead and not support shows on radio or television that highlight hate.  Children and teenagers are not protected.  I feel the same way I do when I go to an action movie and see a tiny kid dragged into the theater to be terrified and later probably addicted to such violence.  Is there no advocate for these kids?  And mentally ill people suffering because of lack of shelters, medicine and compassionate care:  are they to be left to complete horrific acts that destroy themselves and others? 

Our only sense of protection seems to be gun owners, and supposedly they can protect themselves, thank you very much.  So why, why are we not speaking up?  We need to drown out the hate speech by voices of reason and compassion and refuse to let these running off at the mouth thoughtless figures dominate our discussion on anything.  They are guilty though not responsible.  Don't encourage them by sitting open mouthed as they drone on.  Shut off any media that glorifies them and speak from your heart about YOUR values.  And protect the innocent from this evil influence that is holding sway throughout our land.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our dog has hurt her neck and we feel so bad for her.  She's all drugged up and all but immovable.  Tone of voice is everything with her, though she has quite a few words she knows.  It's a dark and dismal day with a sprinkling of rain, and we're being very quiet to keep her calm and our other dog from getting too bouncy around her.  Poor baby with a sympathetic tone is the order of the day.

I feel like perhaps we should all have an occasional day like this, when all is quiet, as in the Christmas song.  No words.  Not a retreat exactly, but a soothing, restful day with tasks getting done, but gently.  A break from the barrage of words and even thoughts of the holidays.  It will all get done, and there really is no rush.  Peace be upon us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My younger daughter and I had a talk about comparisons and ranking yesterday.  She was disturbed by someone doing it, though it was supposedly in fun, and I told her Buddhists feel that comparisons are unwholesome.  They don't serve any positive function.  Our culture gets us in the habit and before we know it we are ranking friends, restaurants, experiences.  I used to ask the kids when they were young which was their favorite painting in a museum, but that was to get them talking about art.  I feel I've judged myself and others too harshly at times.  And judgement is what comparisons are about.  One week your college team is number 4 and the next number 12.  Does it matter?  Only if you are unable to enjoying watching the playing irregardless of the score.  If the playing is good, who cares who won in the 24th inning?

Comparison is often about unconscious habits and insecurity.  We feel others are judging us so we get in our lick first.  We want to be loved, even by those whom we're not even close to.  It's a conversation habit as well, discussing which restaurants and what we ordered.  It is trying to connect, but it is more than informational, because it seems to matter whether you've been or not.  Since I've mostly never been, and never will go, for me the connecting doesn't happen.  I do enjoy hearing the descriptions though, and I'm happy that this night out has given the person pleasure.  So it's mixed. 

I swore off comparisons quite a while ago, and I've felt happier since.  It's like a snapping turtle that you can hold from the back, but suddenly the neck swoops around and you're bitten.  Better not to pick up the tricky critter!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a small, cosy Thanksgiving at our son and daughter-in-law's house, where the talk was mellow and mostly about the meal, as it took all of us to get all the food prepared and heated and ready.  Our right speech wasn't speech at all, but taking turns holding the baby.  He was fussy at first then settled in to a deep sleep with whichever of us was holding him.  His little warm body, fuzzy head and soft skin melted all of us.  There was no need to making sweeping statements of gratitude:  we were all aware that this new little person in our family was a great blessing.

We didn't talk politics, though we are pretty much in agreement on most issues, and we are all so interested in food preparation that we shared our recipes and complimented each other, pleased with the results.  Then we divided the leftovers fairly and each went home with a treat for another day.  Our younger son and older daughter called us, and we had a message from the stepmom of the older two kids, and our circle was complete.  I feel so blessed with our family, and our intentions to embrace each other and expand the love. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Thanksgiving is about right speech:  gratitude.  Whether we articulate gratitude in a prayer before the meal or not, our hearts, when we are with loved ones, enlarge with belonging and connectedness.  I know there is a movie out right now about a disfunctional family, and I enjoyed Jodie Foster's movie a few years ago about the secrets and lies and turmoil in a family during a holiday reunion.  There is some of that in the mix of every family.  So we're not perfect; at least we're trying.  Families if they are wise call a truce around the table and the football game on TV and the walk among the colorful fall leaves.  They attempt to not take offense at an offhand remark and change the subject if a political debate is about to ensue. 

If most Thanksgiving get togethers don't meet our expectations, then we need to see what is, not what we'd like it to be, and appreciate the effort to come together and the fortunate situation we find ourselves in when eating too much is a problem and the kids drive us a bit crazy.  We have kids that drive us crazy and that is a blessing. 

I used to go to classrooms and describe the REAL first Thanksgiving, from the Indians' point of view.  Who really helped who and how that model of cooperation and trust was quickly destroyed.  Not out of bitterness, but out of the stone cold fact of interdependence necessary to life, all life.  We began on the right note, then people turned against each other out of fear of the other, misunderstanding and greed.  That lesson is always and forever relevant.  We need to recognize our interdependence as a nation and that our diversity enriches all our lives.  I for one am grateful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we had a brief rain, but it was encouraging.  The garden sighed in ecstasy.  The dogs were vastly relieved when I got out the leashes.  They even leaped around a bit, like puppies, elderly though they are.  I liked wearing my raincoat and rubber clogs.  I felt like Christopher Robin.  The weather forecast, which is almost always inaccurate speech, was wrong about the duration and amount of rain, but hey, they're only human.  It was the perfect day to talk to my friend up north.  And since she felt the same, that's exactly what we did.  We had semi-serious topics and trivial pursuits.  We were catching up and checking in and witnessing each others lives.  After that connection, I'm ready for a few mundane tasks and dinner preparation and reading in one of the three books I'm currently juggling.  I have a Buddhist book, a memoir and a book about racism as experienced by one very perceptive man.  I can listen to my new Adele CD.  All is right with the world. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw the film "Spotlight" today, and what struck me was the silence that was the evil.  Many people knew about the pedophilia in the Catholic Church in Boston, but the conspired to keep it a secret and those who wanted to expose the truth were pressured to not address an issue that was causing more and more children to be molested without any concern for stopping a widespread practice.  The victims were thus shamed further by the secrecy and sense that they were going against God and the church if they spoke up.  They believed they would hurt their families.

Children had no rights, not even the right to be safe with priests and in the church.  Right speech is telling not just for your own spirit but to prevent further abuse.  There are children to protect and defend, and few took up that cause.  Even now this behavior is protected rather than the children and now adults who have suffered for their trust in their faith.  I can't imagine a worse betrayal.

The film is powerful and engrossing without being melodramatic or sensationalistic.  I hope many people will see it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was visiting my new grandson the last couple of days, and he's beginning to speak.  He coos and imitates sounds and seems to say hi.  His communication efforts are greatly appreciated by all the family.  There are smiles now and excitement as he listens to us and responds.  What a miracle a baby is.  He is only six weeks old, but he's such a person in his own right.  The thrill of language and speech will be felt again because of him.  Right now tone is of the essence, but in a few months he will be really understanding what we say, and he will be venturing his own brand new shiny words.

The joy of new life reminds us that there is so much joy in living and that all the miracles are the little, everyday ones.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my granddaughter and I encountered, for the second time in a month, belligerent customers in a craft store who were swearing and threatening the cashier.  She in turn called security, and it was as if someone had exploded a bomb in the middle of a peaceful purchase of paper and flowers for a ten year old's creative ideas.  I almost rushed her out, but the rucus settled down and we paid and quickly left.  In the car, we discussed how scary the incident was and how people can be really angry and take it out on innocent people.  That led to discussing how she felt men were scarier than women, and I said that was natural, as men are often quite a bit bigger than women.  Then we discussed how different cultural groups behave differently and can make each other nervous.  These women we had witnessed had an in-your-face attitude and so did the clerk.  A lot a female dog terminology was used.  I told my granddaughter that some people feel that kind of language is normal, probably because they've heard it from the time they were kids.

All in all, I won't likely go to that store again with my granddaughter, but we had some helpful conversation about how angry speech can be frightening and that it is better not to answer back, but just get out of the way of the conflict as quickly as possible.  For people who don't care how they behave in front of children, well, they have my compassion that their lives have been so volatile that they can't pause for appropriate language and behavior.  But I don't want to be around them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My son and I have been texting a lot, and surprise, surprise, it has been tender and meaningful to me.  Almost every day he sends me a photo of my grandson, and we oh and ah over his adorableness and share our delight.  Texting doesn't have to be cold and abrupt.  It can be a sweet way of instant love and connection. 

Each form can be used to distance ourselves from others or get closer.  Email, tweeting, texting, blogging can be used for both purposes.  I wouldn't recommend asking someone to marry you via your computer, and I believe in cards for sympathy and events.  But the intention is the thing.  Are you hiding or being your most transparent self?  I'm reading a book that is so deep and thought provoking and it began as a blog:  A Year of Living Virtuously (With Weekends Off) by Teresa Jordan.  She took quotes from Ben Franklin and applied them to her particular life, and the result is terrific. 

So if we bring our whole heart to our text, it can knit us to the other person in a new way.  Our joy at this new little baby is overflowing and in expressible, but the texting captures a bit of it. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The tragedy in Paris on Friday outlines the situation when a group wants no part of speech, except credit for violent acts.  They cannot be negotiated with, because there is nothing they want.  Their suicide mission people know they will die, and their purpose is to kill as many innocent people as possible.  They don't want anything.  Mass suffering is their message.  Diplomacy doesn't enter into the picture, and neither does hope or a future.  When we have no speech we have no ability to connect with the other.

I notice that a graphic of the peace sign with the effiel tower in the center is better speech for those mourning, but even that symbol means nothing to Isis.  Closed off from hearing or seeing anything by the claustrophobia of the hidden life of the cell, these young men are beyond speech.  They have listened to a promise and then closed their ears, eyes and hearts to any other point of view.  The despair they must experience to enter that state is devastating to imagine.

Our despair is the sudden, seeming randomness of these attacks.  How does one prepare?  You cannot.  You go on living your life in affirmation.  You treasure the gift of life, however long it lasts.  Perhaps we all have the impulse to speak words of love and gratitude even more frequently.  We speak for those silenced and those who have moved beyond speech into the eclipse of the soul.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We've just returned from a holiday in Hawaii for a week.  Lots of Aloha and Mahalo and friendliness all around, culminated last night on the plane by a family willing to switch a seat so my husband and I could sit together, and a tolerate group of travelers surrounded by crying babies and toddlers who were good natured and tolerant.  No one showed signs of grumpiness, and we all endured an hour of turbulence.  The flight attendants were kind and joyful, and that really helped us.  It sounds simple, but we've all been on planes where the attendants ignored us and people snapped at others.  So this flight was a real gift.

Sounds like no biggie, but in fact, it's the little things...  If we practice kind speech in these random situations, we build our believe in people and ourselves.  It matters.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last week I had to voice mails on my answering machine and later two on my cell phone.  The messages were garbled at the beginning but threatened legal consequences if the notice was disregarded, and ended with the number to return the call immediately.  I erased the messages on the phone, but the following week, I noticed on the voicemails on the cell phone that it said "Sacramento, Main DA".  Was it the district attorney calling.  I showed them to my husband who looked up on line and discovered it was a scam and many people related how they'd called the number and it was completely phony.  I'm grateful I gotten more cautious, but was appalled at how genuine the message appeared to be.

So much wrong speech is besieging us that it feels unsafe to return any calls if it's not a friend.  The communication device is isolating us.  My favorite is "Unavailable 1".  If they are so unavailable I guess I will be too.  They want to keep their privacy while invading ours.  Then there are the names that make it seem like a person, but when you pick up it's someone trying to get you to donate to an organization.  Even the phone company and my bank attack me with messages that make me think something is wrong, but not really.  They want to SELL me something as well.  Give me a break!

I'm not sure why we're not better protected from these misery makers, but it seems to have something to do with the surrender of protection of privacy on all fronts.  We're going to regret this, and I already do, but the genie cannot be stuffed back in the bottle.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm about to go on a week's vacation.  It has been incredibly difficult to carve out this time, and we have worries about leaving our dogs at the kennel, because they are old.  I'm tugged toward our new grandson and the help he might need or more to the point his exhausted parents.  There are voices in my head listing what I must not forget to bring and what I might be missing in my overstuffed bag.  Traveling rattles most of us.  At least the transition does.  So we talk ourselves down.  We don't watch airplane crash movies leading up to the trip.  We try to remember what it is that's nagging at us.  The phone cord?  Did we tell our son the right time to pick us up?

This is anxiety chattering at us like squirrels in a tree.  It's noisy, even though it's silent to the outer world.  And then you snap your seat belt and whatever didn't get done is lost, because the time for doing has come and gone and now you can just be.  Whatever you brought with you will do, or can be fixed once you get there.  

And in my case there will be no email or blog or phone calls.  Yes, I'll have my cell for important communications if necessary, but I'll be turned off, so to speak.  My eyes will take over and my senses, and the brain will be resting.  I plan to nap a lot and stare at the ocean and try not to eat too much.  I'll be in the warm water getting elemental, my dear Watson.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my daughter and I saw the film "Truth", and it was interesting and pertinent to politics today.  First of all, it did delineate the facts of the CBS 60 Minutes piece a few years ago on George Bush's military service.  I'd never read about it in detail.  Secondly, it clarified the incidents around Dan Rather's retirement and Mary Mapes' firing.  It made me sad, because journalism is so discouraged these days that tough stories don't get out.  The clout of politicians and CEOs and others suppresses the truth.  I've personally felt the 2000 election was compromised by the Supreme Court, and the loser took office by trickery.  But the 2004 election looks to have been affected as well, because the story on Bush was squashed, and Kerry's war record was distorted and maligned. 

We deserve to get a fuller accounting even if it arrives too late.  We also need to make the effort necessary to pursue stories ourselves and demand information.  When we give up, there is no incentive for news to fight the Goliaths to get to what happened.  So the state of the media is in large part our fault.  We'd rather be entertained than informed.  Right speech is speaking up when no one else seems to care or accuses you of being left leaning, or biased or unfair.  Tell both sides, but tell them completely.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I heard from my son that Benedict Cumberbatch is using his celebrity to speak out for more Syrian refugees being admitted to the UK.  I remember seeing something about his live performance of Hamlet being hampered by lots of flashes on phones going off.  He spoke out about how it distracted the actors and affected the performances.  I guess now he's decided if he's going to receive this amount of attention it might as well be for an important issue, not who he's dating.  In our fame based culture, at least some targets are speaking up about clean water, domestic abuse, women's equal pay for equal work and other concerns.

If it's a crazy world, let's transform the craziness into action to help other beings.  It's just a fact that these celebrities have huge power, and if we're seeing it on the negative side with Donald Trump, we're also seeing a positive, less self-serving impulse to direct attention away from the star and toward the person in need.  Is the glass half-empty or half-full.  Only you can decide.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been with my baby grandson the last three days, and right speech is talking to him, mimicing his sounds and repeating sounds for him.  Inside that amazing little mind is the ability to quickly learn to understand and then to speak.  Lots of singing also goes on.  His name is in the songs and they are about wild babies and riding around town (while we're rocking) and how much he's loved and introducing him to his home.  His sounds are delightful.  He is responsive and big eyed about this brand new world.

And looking at the world through his eyes it is new and bright and glorious.  The shadows on the walls, the lines in a fabric, the lights in on the ceiling:  all so magical.  Baby view is the way to see life, for sure.  And when they're around us, they gift us with joy and gratitude.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spoke up for someone this morning, I hope in a good way.  Road Scholar had sent me a thank you note for pushing a woman in the group in her wheelchair at the museums, and it was not myself but another woman with the same first name who did it.  So I called and left a message that I hoped they would write another note to the right woman, because I felt she'd gone above and beyond the call of duty and that the leader should have asked each of us to push for an hour so no one would be burdened with the care of this person, who was supposed to be be able to walk and was difficult to boot.  I felt offended that the leader couldn't distinguish the two women with the same first name in a group of sixteen.  So not only was I appalled for the woman who should have received a thank you, and felt invisible to the leader.

This woman in the wheel chair did upset me from the very first moment she sat down with my friend and I and proceeded to be rude and critical at every juncture.  I was polite with her each and every time, but she seemed a bully.  Then to discover that she expected to be pushed around in a wheelchair at museums meant she needed help that she had not prearranged for.  She might have brought a companion, informed Road Scholar ahead of time (maybe she did) and made a general request to all of us.  I did push a bit the first day and carefully opened doors for her throughout, if I was around, but she ended up isolating the woman who took on the task, and I'm pretty sure she went where she wished, and ordered the other woman about.  Yes, I know, that woman should have spoken up, but I would have waited for rescuing from the leader and I'm afraid she might have been the caretaker type, who gets sucked in easily.  Again, her problem.  But I see it ultimately as a failure of the leader.

I really hope I'm wrong and the other woman with my same first name was happy to be of service and enjoyed the company of the woman.  I'm afraid I would have been tempted to push her into the bushes!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's hard to make a case for right speech when there is so much wrong speech coming out of the mouths of Republican candidates.  Hate speech in some instances.  And I read this morning in the newspaper that Republicans believe Trump will be the most viable candidate with Ben Carson second.  Does this mean they see this speech as normal and representative?  I sure hope not.

But people have been desensitized by television and the internet.  Somehow racist, sexist speech has been mainstreamed into our culture.  I'm disturbed.  There seemed to be, in the past, an understood line that one did not cross whatever private feelings or opinions one held.  But now there is no privacy, and everyone is exposed to ignorance, prejudice and the blame game.  How do we recoup our sense of decency?  It's certainly not going to happen if speakers are rewarded for hate.  It really seems to have come to bread and circuses.

I'm saddened.  I've nothing against Republicans, but I don't recognize what they've become.  Is it really okay to say anything, when you are aspiring to the highest office?  How will these people behave if they are in positions of power?  They would speak for our country and to other nations, and it seems as if the disintegration of relations with other countries would follow.  Do we no longer want coexistence and peace in the world? 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today's dharma talk was about fooling ourselves with our identities and labels, and being unable to see through them to who we really are.  Something deeper unites us.  Getting hung up in being a "wife", "mother", "woman", "teacher" makes us struggle to fit ourselves into these labels, and we smother ourselves often.  I've often felt like a fraud, as if I wasn't a good enough "grandmother", when that is really because I'm not that label, I am a stack of labels, fluidly ebbing and waning, but the fit is not right and comfortable with any of them.

And then he told us never to call others names and not to criticize others either.  We're all guilty of those uses of speech and I felt very guilty when he mentioned it.  I'd just been saying some critical remarks about a third party to a friend, and I immediately regretted my speech.  It's unfair, and I am disturbed at the very thought that someone would try to sum me up or judge me in the way I was judging this person.  My Buddhist teacher told the story of a man who called another a monkey, and karma made him endure 500 lifetimes as a monkey himself.  My teacher realized as and adult that the story was metaphorical, but as a child he worried he was going to turn into a monkey if he slipped and called others names.  It caused him to be very careful of his speech.  As I'm resolved to be more careful of mine.  Lest I begin swinging from trees.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I saw the movie "Bridge of Spies" a few days ago, and both of us felt it exceeded our expectations.  There is a message embedded in the essence of the film that talking can work wonders, and deescalate tensions that might harm the many.  Diplomacy was at it's height then.  No one wanted another world war, and all sides wished to avoid violence.  The viewer gets the feeling that our current Congressional impass is because this art, and it is an art, is devalued.  Now people want dramatic statements and acts that draw the attention of the media.  Secrecy, and conversations involving negotiations are devalued.  The public has the right to know.  But it has turned out that the public is in the line of fire for judgment, hatred and sensationalism.  Witness the Bengahzi hearings.  There is much posturing and no information.  Like Bernie Sanders, we are fatigued with this public display.  Not everything can be reality TV.

We have a counter example of the old fashioned diplomacy in Pope Francis encouraging Cuba and the U.S. to loosen up their ancient stances and come to agreement on reasonable relations.  So the old way is not dead.  And there is every indication that John Kerry is working tirelessly behind the scenes to make tensions in the Middle East ease a bit.  But this understanding of diplomacy takes thought and a belief that this is a skill not everyone possesses.  Therefore we have to leave diplomats to the necessary privacy of their calling.  Yes, they are ultimately responsible to us.  But they are not required to entertain us and expose every step of their decision making.  We have a representative government, not a circus.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a walk with a friend yesterday, and I appreciated the talking being mild and gentle.  This friend and I can get at odds pretty quickly, so I'm happy when the discussion is easy.  She brought some love letters between her parents that her brother had found recently.  I read one from each parent and then she selected one of each to read aloud to me.  They were from the 1920's and very touching.  Both were Swedish, from farm families, and living in North Dakota.  She was 19 years younger than he.  There was a lot of reference to God and prayer, as they were both Pentecostals and met at a night prayer meeting in a tent.  There was so much gratitude in the letters, though she had lost her mother at two and her father remarried and lost wives several times afterward.  Her older sister fell in love and followed a man to New York, and when he rejected her, she killed herself.  It was a hard life on the prairie, and yet, and yet, they loved passionately, married quickly, and had five children.  They spoke of their good fortune instead of their hardships.  She couldn't afford a wedding or a dress, and he had to postpone the honeymoon until after the corn was harvested.  Their religion gave them hope and strength.  I was touched and their loving words, so many decades later, being discovered and appreciated by their children.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I deeply appreciate Joe Biden's announcement yesterday that he was not running for President.  The transparency of his grief and the process, owned up to so publicly, is an example for the rest of us.  He took care of himself and his family first, and acknowledged what all of us know, that grief is not so simple or as speedy as we might like.  Grief hits in waves, it distorts our decisions, it saps us of energy, and it takes its own sweet time to work its way in each of us.  We make a timeline at our peril.  I feel the health of Vice President Biden and his family has been considered seriously and wisely.  We ignore or push grief aside only to find it relentless in its pursuit of us.

I appreciate President Obama being at his side when he made this announcement, and the respectful coverage of this private decision made public.  I'm sure Biden would have made a terrific candidate, but the intention must not be to fulfill his dead son's dream for him, but for him to be in robust health in mind and body.  The dead are dead, and the living must assess their limits and multiple responsibilities.  Now the Bidens can care for their son's grandchildren better and more often, they can take pauses for their own waves of grief, and they can remember their son and support his family.  That is the highest calling and the greatest honorable behavior.  Bless them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my younger daughter and I went to visit the new baby.  And I noticed that my daughter-in-law's mother was warmer to me and more talkative.  In the past she's been quite cool.  I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that my dogged politeness has paid off.  Whatever aversion and distrust she seemed to feel before has softened, maybe because of my determination to back off and give her the rights as First Grandmother, or maybe because a baby brings people together.  The important thing for me is to be aware of it and not be acting out of previous experience, but rather with what is happening now.

I enjoyed talking with her yesterday and relaxed around her.  She's a tiger with her daughter and yet she's been with her almost three weeks, so the hunger and missing she experiences has been sated, and she knows she's coming back in January.  I've been careful to come up only once a week and let her interact with the baby and her daughter however she wishes.  I am reassured I will have my own time after she is gone, but I won't be needed as much as she has been, because the parents have gotten their bearings and are feeling more confident now. 

I'm grateful for this change, and know it will benefit our kids and grandkids as well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just listened to a dharma talk of my teacher.  He used the term "mental proliferation" to describe busy mind, the opposite of quiet mind, where there is space to turn inward and to be more conscious of each moment.  We don't actually see our busy mind unless we pause and sit in silence.  Then we have the tools to notice our thoughts and reactions to those thoughts.  So is it any wonder that mental proliferation leads to wrong speech?  We become impulsive and unwise.  We blurt out opinions and judgments galore.  We are Donald Trumps.  Oh, dear.

For some people it seems to be amusing to see such a messy mind.  To others of us it is our worst nightmare.  Our jaws are wired open and we can't shut up, and whatever fleeting thoughts we have are exposed to the world and come to represent us. 

I've worked hard to have some silence in my daily life, and to not run away from thoughts, feelings and ideas that flit through.  I'm human, and this is how we work.  But I don't think of myself as defined by such thoughts.  I know I am capable of deeper reflection and contemplation, and have inner resources to make my interactions non-harmful and kind and compassionate.  With all the turbulent news and blasting of unconscious minds, our consciousness is more important than ever.  We must clean out the house of our minds, to make space for what is truly important and true to us.  The now popular tidying up book perhaps hints at a deeper need in all of us:  the need to keep an uncluttered mind so that our love and compassion our at the forefront of our speech and action.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm going to the eye doctor today to check and see if my bleed is still dry.  I'm used to it, but not sanguine.  I become very stressed beforehand, and doing the eye test has become scary.  Maybe it's the eleven years I've dealt with this fear of losing sight, or more sight, I should say.  Instead of calming me, I've got that dread that something bad is coming.  I've only got the one good eye, and if/when that goes I'll not be able to read or drive or be as independent.  I had kind of relaxed into the degree of vision loss for ten years, but since the new bleed in May, the ground beneath my feet has shifted.  Yes, they have given me back the sight I just lost this year by the amazing injection they can do, but it's shaken me.

This Thursday I see my therapist for the first time in a while, and I need to talk about my stress.  I need to admit the cost to me daily, with the possibility of vision loss haunting me.  I was coping well, but right now I'm not.  It's time to fess up and get more support. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My next right speech challenge has to do with answering the online feedback about the Road Scholar trip I just took.  I know, just tell the truth.  But the truth today may not be how I feel about the trip next week or next month.  I understand I'm settling back in and haven't had any time for reflection.  Did I like the trip?  Yes, but they want details.  And there are many things that could stand improvement.  Then there is the fact that I went with my best friend, and we can have fun anywhere.  So how much credit goes to the program, and how much was seeing my friend after many months? 

But the irrational is just as huge for me.  I like to be nice.  I like to be good.  I don't want to criticize.  I can all too easily put myself in the shoes of the organizers and the leader.  Nobody's perfect, this wasn't a high cost trip, so many excuses, so little time.  I'm not the kind of person who expects or can demand everything be perfect.  I don't feel I deserve it.  I blame myself for not speaking up - actually, sort of for not fixing it.  There is a catch 22 for you!

I'll bite the bullet later today and fill out the thing.  And try mightily to not think of it again or be self conscious while I answer the questions.  And my form is one of sixteen and not important in the higher scheme of things.  But it's speech, and I want my intentions to be helpful and honest.  It's not a lie detector test or a result that will change anyone's life.  But the pressure, oh, the pressure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just had a nice getaway with a friend, looking at art with a Road Scholar program.  Lots of right speech from others in the group and between my friend and I, and a smattering of wrong speech noticed and noted.  There was one individual who, as my friend said, didn't have her filters, and she was inappropriately interrupting and drawing attention to herself and criticizing others.  My friend and I just tried to give her a wide berth, but without obviously avoiding her.  The last dinner together she announced I didn't look Indian, and I replied she must have not gone to many powwows, and she insisted she knew what an Indian looked like because her brother-in-law was Indian.  I told her if it felt better to her she didn't have to believe I was Indian.  Then she proceeded to tell me all about Indians of the Northeast, and I listened politely until the subject was changed.

Why engage?  We're all seniors, and I'm not going to change her options or behavior.  I decided to think it was funny.  But she was one of 17 people, so really, what did it matter?  Clearly, she was desperate to hog the attention, and somehow managed to corral one of the group to push her wheelchair at each and every museum.  I felt sorry for the kindhearted woman, but she said it was fine.  What should have happened, in my opinion, was that our group leader asked each of us to do an hour so that nobody bore the responsibility that was not part of the program.  But I stayed out of it, and had a drink with the "pusher " several times when we returned from a museum when she asked. 

Another woman decided to be an expert lecturer, even though we had professors give us talks and docent us through museums.  I felt irritation arising, and judgment, but I worked to keep letting it go.  And I admit, she had some interesting things to say, it was just fatiguing to sit there for  the regular lecturers and then listen to her two cents as well.  

But my own behavior is my only business, and I handled the minor irritations without flaming anything up into strong reactions or feelings.  I give me a B.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Right speech this week is for me expressing great gratitude to the hospital, friends, family and all persons involved in the birth of our grandson.  His mother labored for 30 hours without drugs, his dad right there beside her and two doulas plus the hospital staff her village.  Many friends supported her mother and my husband and I as we waited and then shared our joy at the safe birth.

I gave flowers to the hospital staff today and to my daughter-in-law and son on their heroic labor.  I wanted to give flowers to the whole world!  I'm exhausted, but so very grateful to have been a part of this experience of life affirming triumph. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We have a celebrity culture, one that appears to have children and teens aspiring to their five minutes of fame.  They watch television and see people like themselves on reality shows, in the news, and dominating the landscape of violence.  The easiest route to celebrity seems to pick up a gun and hurt enough people to grab some attention.  You might die in the process, but these kids don't really understand death, either of themselves or others.  Because they see so much death on cop shows, in violent movies and on the news, it loses its sting.  Somehow it doesn't occur to them they will not be watching themselves on the news, at least most of them.  The Charleston gunman will. 

Why do we idolize this kind of fame/infamy?  Those of us who are erased and lonely may feel we are expressing our existence.  We see ourselves as champions of a cause.  Somehow heroism is skewed to be gunning down defenseless people. 

We know it would help if these sick individuals were not able to watch so much violence, and access websites that advocate hate and violence.  But the internet has made control of all kinds of pornography and hatred easy.  We are beyond parental controls, when kids can go next door or to the library to see what they cannot at home. 

We know that lack of access to weapons would help.  Let's pass some gun control legislation.  

We can offer alternatives for kids.  They would rather be seen and listened to for the most part than sulk isolated in their rooms.  After school programs, mentorships, sports guidance, clubs, and counseling can make a difference.  And they might just change the kids' ideas of what feels good and who they are.  They want to be visible.  They want friends.  Real friends who they see face to face not on a website.  Make it happen.  Speak up and then listen to them. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My son practiced right speech by calling me last night the minute the midwife had done the stress test on the baby.  All was well, and they will schedule inducing the baby Thursday or Friday if he's not come out on his own by then.  They have an appointment with their doctor Wednesday.  So with all that and my daughter-in-law's mother with them, I'm reassured and confident the baby will be born this week.  If I'd called, I would have been afraid I was pressuring them or conveying worry.  His thoughtfulness eased my mind greatly. 

Keeping in touch is really important at certain times:  big events like a wedding or birth, after tension or conflict, during health issues, and when you know not knowing is stressful.  It's the kind and caring thing to do.  It does take a village, and the village needs to be kept informed.  I know I appreciate being in the loop, and I've tried to keep the people who are supporting me through this birthing process up to date.  I like to get the updates and birthday photos and reports of the first day of kindergarten.  I want to hear about health problems and share worry and concern.  Otherwise we're on separate planets, and it feels lonely. 

So today I'm optimistic and excited again, and imagining that little fellow in my arms.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm in this strange position of friends waiting for news of my grandchild's arrival, so they aren't bugging me and I have no plans with them.  I'm kind of isolated, because now it is my daughter-in-law's mother who is there with them, and we are outside the loop, in a way.  I have no activities planned, as we'd expected to be helping out, and I feel I should wait to contact people until I have baby news.  I'm anxious, as the days go on, and would be so relieved if the little fellow would arrive.  I've distracted myself about as much as I am able, and when friends do contact me they have advice which I cannot pass on, because I don't want more pressure on the couple.  They have a doula, a doctor and now mom there, and all my relaying advice would do is add to stress.  At least I know that.  I have that much sense.

Now the pressure I feel is nothing compared to the impending parents, and I'm sending tonglen to them in my prayers.  This is a momentous time and event.  I can see my daughter-in-law is tired and worn from the anticipation, and the responsibility.  She's being so brave and upbeat, but now wakes up at four am each morning.  It's time, or almost time at least.  I'm powerless to ease them, but I'm trying to ease myself as much as possible.  And it's challenging.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I visited our son and his wife.  They are overdue with their first baby, and being pressured by their doctor to be induced.  My daughter-in-law feels they had the due date wrong and that her real due date was yesterday.  They have been warned about the danger of waiting until 41 weeks, and at 42 weeks there is danger of stillbirth.  They are assaulted by words and percentages and it must be so difficult for them.  Tomorrow her mother flies out, so hopefully she'll been comforted by her, as she is a physical therapist and in the medical world.  I could only listen to what they were feeling and ask a few questions.  My first three children were quite late, and nobody worried about it in those days.  The last was a week early.  They were all fine, the labors were short and sweet and I needed no drugs.  But birthing nowadays is a different culture, and I can't say I understand it.  I am feeling fearful because the doctor is so insistent, and, of course, at my age I've heard horror stories and every kind of story possible.  I'm confused.  Birth gets really scary if you think about it too much, which I am now doing.  I'm going to pray for them, as I have been.  I will calm myself, because getting stressed is not helpful to them.  This is their show, and it will unfold however it will. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my granddaughter and I went to a pet store, as we often do.  Currently, she's in love with the idea of a hamster and a beta fish.  What she really wants is a kitten or another bunnie to mate with hers, but she's ten now and has figured a few things out.  She tries to keep her desire for a menagerie damped down.  Her mother dislikes cats, so that's not going to happen.  So she's thinking little.  I, as usual, spent time with the birds.  I'm fascinated and disturbed by them.  It seems unbearably cruel to keep a bird from flying.  Flying is their whole essence.  My granddaughter was in raptures also over a guinea pig.  We spent an hour there, coming out with a spongebob ceramic house for her goldfish and a bag of treats for her bunnie.  On the way out she said she wished her parents could let her have a hamster. 

I said, "Maybe they don't want to add another chore to their list.  Don't they do most of the caring for the bunnie, dog and goldfish?"

She admitted her mom walked the dog.  I asked who fed her and bought the food and took her to the vet?  Her parents.  She wished her parents would let the bunnie be in her room, but the hatch had been so expensive, she couldn't ask.

I suggested maybe if she did all the tasks for the three pets she had, maybe they'd be more amenable to the idea of another animal.

It was as if a light bulb had gone off.  "Yeah, if I take really good care of my dog, then they might let me".  She had a plan.

I reminded her than when she grew up and had her own place she could have as many pets as she wanted.  But right now, she was awfully busy and gone all day at school, so having pets was tricky.  "And your parents both work too and have your three year old sister to attend to". 

She's ten, and seemed to have reached the age of reason.  She was thinking.  She asked for a smoothie and we changed the subject.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is our dogs' eleventh birthdays.  We sang happy birthday, gave them birthday bisquits, a sqeaky toy each and put birthday bandanas on their necks.  I memorialized it with a photo.  In their case right speech is not as important as right tone and right tone is nothing compared to a bisquit.  But put it all together and they seemed excited and perky, and when it began to rain on our walk, they took it in stride.  Dogs don't seem to need speech much.  They are attached to our heartstrings and feel everything first.  Which means they see through the words to intention.  It's an admirable quality, and maybe why Tibetans believe that dogs are the highest reincarnation next to humans.  Loyalty, protectiveness, compassion for their humans, they will give up their lives for those they love.

Their devotion is an example to be followed.  And they are the best snuggle buddies in the world.  Today, I will try to live up to my dogs' example.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The sweetest speech in the world is the news of a baby born.  My friend's granddaughter was born yesterday before dawn, and she's lovely and healthy and the whole family is joyful.  I've already seen three pictures of her, thanks to IPhones, and feel I am sharing in this happiness.  And soon my son and daughter-in-law will have a baby boy.  I'm excited and nervous and waiting, just waiting.  I really don't want to do anything else, so I distract myself but in the back of my mind is anticipation.  Being in the present moment is difficult.

But last night at our writing group, I experienced such joy because everyone's piece was just so terrific and I had this epiphany of how skilled the group had become through hard work and supporting each other.  Their speech was my joy.  We were telling important stories, sending them out into the world to share.  It felt so good.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had dinner at our younger daughter's and son-in-law's place last night with his parents who are visiting them.  I like them more as I get to know them, though we haven't much in common.  We got along well last night, and watched the blood moon/eclipse together in front of the flat.  But when we went home my husband had really had an awful time.  Nothing bad had happened, he just had a completely different experience than I had.  It was a wake up for me.  He and I are very different people.  Socializing is stressful for him and I enjoy it (excuse the generalizing, sometimes it's the opposite).  His reaction reminds me that my world is subjective, and not "the truth".

I've learned not to argue him out of his own opinion.  I try to respect his viewpoint.  But it is the Mars/Venus dilemma, and I'm afraid he gets discouraged if I don't see the interaction his way.  It makes him feel worse, as if he has no right to his opinion unless I can be persuaded to his "side".  I don't believe in sides, and I'm certainly too old to pretend to agree with my husband of 41 years.  It's like we inhabit parallel universes, as in a Murakami novel.  But it serves to remind me that everyone is subjective and not to assume people are in agreement about what they see and hear.  We all filter reality through our unique prism.  It's really pretty fascinating.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Buddhist teacher talked today about thorns in the heart and how they keep us from being the person we wish to be.  He said no one is evil:  if you look deeply enough, you see the thorns in the person's heart that have hindered him/her from kindness and compassion.  They are in a cloud of confusion, striking out or mimicing something done to them.  The more you understand the easier it is to forgive.  This includes ourselves.  Those sharp hurts in our hearts are keeping our heart from expanding and embracing others.  If we ease these thorns out by examining them and speaking of them to a witness, then our heart no longer hurts.

Speaking of and acknowledging these thorns is difficult.  And we are often unaware of them, unaware that are actions are resulting from a long ago hurt, a grudge, a wound.  An invisible wound cannot heal, but we can take action to heal ourselves and turn to others to heal us if we make it visible.  And after we've undergone this process, our compassion and ability to see thorns impeding others is enlarged.  But the speaking must happen.  Teachers say a Buddhist practice needs one witness, at least.  Usually, the teacher is that witness.  I also have several friends who are my witnesses.  I'm blessed.  It takes my admission of the thorn to pluck it out.  I must speak of the unspeakable.  And I must have a listener.  I am engaged with others to be able to practice.  We are interdependent.  And we have the opportunity to heal each other by our speech.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our dogs woke us up early this morning, and since I had something planned with a friend at 10, I cheerfully fed them, made breakfast, walked both dogs and then my husband and I drove to our son's place to feed his girlfriend's cat and check on him.  We even whipped over to the bank to get some money out.  I was back home in plenty of time and waited first inside, then outside, for my friend to pick me up after her Pilates class.  When she was late I called and she had forgotten all about it.  She felt terrible and apologized profusely, and I was gracious.  But I was disappointed.  I could go by myself but a quilt show needs a friend to share reactions and likes and dislikes.  So I'll wait until we can see it together. 

We're both at the age when forgetfulness is rampant.  It could have been me.  But now I have a weekend with no plans, no baby in sight, and I have to scramble around for an outing.  Am I angry?  No, just, as I said, disappointed.  There is no blame.  Which is an improvement over the past, when I'd have judged my friend, or decided she didn't value my friendship enough and feel sorry for myself.  Today it was clean.  I named what I was feeling accurately right off the bat.  And what happened then was the upset went away in a minute or two.  Amazing what practicing no judgment can do!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is the anniversary of my father's death, and I want to speak of it even if only on this blog, because I value memory and the special place in our hearts for our parents.  He's been gone exactly 30 years today.  So much has happened that he "missed", both good and bad.  He was a powerful presence for my kids, and I regret the youngest doesn't remember him.  She grew up without grandparents, since my mother died 10 months before my dad.  At 40 I was an orphan, and "on my own".  It felt terrifying and liberating.  I grieved heavily for a year, then gradually life took over, as it does, and though I still thought of them frequently, the pain subsided.  The pain was partly feeling they were cheated by dying so young.  The pain was also how badly they cared for themselves and how their deaths were attributable to that lifestyle.  They both smoked from the time they were kids.  They drank too much.  They ate poorly at times, and with too much fat and sugar in their diets.  They did exercise regularly, and had friends and support systems and financial security and travel and all things that make life interesting.  With my mother, the smoking and drinking caused a fatal heart attack.  With my dad, the smoking and working in the textile industry and breathing all that air in factories filled with fibers eventually killed him. 

I've passed the ages they both died, which feels very strange.  I see them both in my kids and in myself.  Their love for me was never in doubt.  We didn't agree on a lot of things, but they had my back regardless.  That is my legacy to my kids.  I'm there for them.  No matter what.  My mother used to say even if my brother and I were in prison she'd love us.  It annoyed me at the time, but I get it now.  Love doesn't judge, it just is.  And I still feel my father's love and appreciate his spirit being with me.  Hi, Dad.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night I felt I floundered a bit when I was sewing with our younger son's girlfriend.  She and I have tried several baby gift projects.  The last time it was quilts and this time it's an owl pillow.  I'd lost the pattern so I'd drawn one on parchment paper, and as she worked on cutting and sewing, I realized I'd done a terrible job and also didn't know how much to redo or if I should tell her we should start all over. 

How to be encouraging while constantly adjusting the owl?  I had no instinct for the balance.  I'm a retired teacher, sure, but nobody would ever hire me to teach sewing.  And I'm not so good at following directions or stating the steps to follow.  I felt lost.

I wrote her an email this morning apologizing, and she denied she'd been frustrated.  She said she thought she would pull apart and resew or make a new pattern herself.  She is so completely kind that I'm not sure I believe her about the frustrating part, but I realize that what she described is sewing:  you try it, it doesn't look right, there's too much material or too little, the sides aren't the same, and you redo and redo until you are satisfied with what you're looking at.  I wanted to protect her, but she IS learning a lot by the old standby:  trial and error.

I'm glad I apologized.  I'm sure that was right speech.  I just wish I'd had some right speech flowing last night when I was trying to help!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

For me right speech includes what I write, as I am so oriented towards expressing myself in writing.  Yesterday I wrote the beginning of something new and it felt so good.  I was telling about a visit to India 15 years ago to visit my daughter, and the funny things that happened during the visit.  It's liberating to be writing something new, and I'm not sure why.  I deepest aspiration was always to be a writer.  As a child I kept diaries and wrote poetry.  There has never been a time in my life when I wasn't at least writing in a journal.  In my twenties I wrote poetry, and was part of a poetry collective.  When a friend died I wrote a book about the experience and my attempts to "save" her.  In my thirties and forties I tried my hand at novels and a memoir.  I've usually been in a writer's group, and I've done workshops, retreats, writer's conferences. 

I feel at home writing, whereas with speaking aloud there is an accompanying anxiety at times, and a judgmental voice in my head criticizing what I say.  I over analyze and over inflate the importance of what I say.  My comfort zone is pen and paper, well keyboard and computer.  In my group, I often forget my fellow writers feel more at home speaking than writing.  I guess the habit of writing has relaxed me about what I write.  Habit, both in my Buddhist practice and in my daily writing habit, gives me a sense of peace.  So much so that perhaps I need to be carefully awake instead of drowsy and slumped when I write or meditate.  But mostly, the joy of both practices keeps me fully engaged.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was my turn to facilitate our writing group last night, and I'd emailed the agenda, and thought I HAD IT ALL UNDER CONTROL, and then one of our members didn't want to go along with a plan and I saw all this junk arise in my mind:  she doesn't like me, she's angry, she is going to back out, she will quit the group and so will everyone else, oh my god.  As we all listened to her objections, I flashed on me as a bulldozer, a shiny red one, an image which I don't find flattering.  We ended up working out a better understanding of the plan, and are going to revisit it next week when we meet, but for me it was a wake up call:

I am in control of nothing.
Things that seem easy to me might be terrifying to others and vice versa.
I want to be liked, but disagreement doesn't mean I'm not liked.  Everybody's different.
If I can't persuade others to my plan, I need to proceed on my own.
I'm often not as persuasive as I imagine.
Listen much, much more than talk.
The plan doesn't really matter, it's just an idea.  No doubt something better will come along.

Ah, the mind.  The ego.  The delusion.  IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT ME.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We really were delightfully surprised yesterday by the opera we saw:  "Sweeney Todd" by Stephen Sondheim.  The music was wonderful, the opera well cast and the voices perfect.  The acting was even terrific.  I had tears in my eyes at the end and my husband said he had chills up his spine.  Opera is wonderful speech for emotion, and the suffering of Sweeney was elevated to universality by the singer.  Yes, he was a murderer, but because he'd gone mad from the loss of his wife and daughter.  Mrs. Lovett had no excuse, but she was Lady Macbeth to his Macbeth.

I adore opera.  It transcends it's lyrics, whether they are sublime or ridiculous, because of the music.  Simple words become profound with the right musical setting.  As teenagers, when we're at our most hormonal and filled with a spin cycle of emotions, only our favorite songs speak for us.  We play a CD over and over and let the emotions be sopped up in the song.  I remember sighing to Elvis' "Love me Tender' and the Everly Brothers "All I have to do is Dream".  Later, Bruce Springsteen's "Down to the River" and "I'm on Fire" sent shivers up and down my body. 

Now my emotions mainly get engaged in opera and classical music, but the other day I listened to a Sam Cooke disc and it brought me back to sock hops and sweaty hands and dancing with a boy with dimples.  Ah.  Shortcut to being a turbulent teen again without undergoing the suffering involved.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was chatting with a friend on the phone this morning and we covered a bunch of topics, including weddings, quilt shows and her granddaughter's birthday party later today.  We will see each other tomorrow night, but it will be at a writing group, where there won't be time for chitchat. 

Chitchat is right speech.  Not meaningful, not important, but satisfying, like birds chirping for joy.  We were comparing and contrasting wedding stories, not to harm, but openly and curiously, to discuss how tricky weddings can be and how something seems to fall through the cracks no matter how diligent we are.  So we were noticing there is no such thing as a perfect wedding, forgiving ourselves for lapses and goofs.  The talk was a kind of support for each other and also an affirmation that we both noticed some of the same things.

Trivial is not automatically bad.  It can be a method of bring each other closer, as long as it harms no one and we are not talking about a third party behind her back.   Maybe it's blowing off steam in a harmless way as well.  There must be some good reason we feel so good after we hang up!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend has a bad flu and has texted me that she's not up to phone calls and the like.  I appreciate her boundaries, and it means I don't have to imagine some estrangement or other problem.  I'm just waiting until she contacts me.  And her text reminds me that talking to others is an EFFORT.  It requires lucidity and intention and careful choice of language.  Sure it happens without all that, but sometimes the results are disasterous.  My friend knows that she needs her wits about her to be not harmful.  Sometimes we forget the power of words and the carelessness that can get us into trouble.

When we go quiet, it might be to think something over before we speak to that person, or to figure out what it is we are feeling, or orchestrate the right speech before we actually open our mouths.  This is awareness, and it shows a profound respect for the person we are going to address.  And, as Suzuki Roshi said, "It's never to late".  Never too late to say what it has taken us a long time to formulate, or revise something we've said before and regret.  It's never too late to express gratitude or love or appreciation.  Whenever it happens, go for it. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading a fascinating book titled "NeuroTribes" about the history of autism and it's theories and treatments.  A lot of wrong speech harmed many families struggling with children who were along this spectrum of behaviors.  Now we know it is genetically programmed, but in the 1930s and beyond it was blamed on the mothers of these children, who were accused of being cold, not wanting these children, and often the treatment was to wrench the children away from their parents and put them in institutions, where most often they regressed and suffered and died.  Blame was cast without any solid research or evidence.  Doctors became famous as healers of this disease who were out for glory and financial gain.

Nowadays, autism is better understood and many people with it adapt as they grow up and find professions where they can be successful and respected.  Those who are on the more severe side of the spectrum can be helped by patience and kindness.  But the problem of being more fascinated with the presentation and puzzling it out than with seeing the child and interacting with him is still a threat.  It's the scientist vs the pediatrician.  Theories don't help patients, only engagement and seeing the patient as fully human really gains insight and healing. 

This book, though I'm only half way through, seems to be about compassion over ambition.  Where kindness wins out, the true insight into the nature of autism is revealed. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

In order to observe right speech I avoided the debate last night like the plague.  My husband watched, but I told him I did not wish to hear about it.  Why put that nonsense in my head?  I know it's not a pristine head, and is filled with trivia and bad speech I've heard or read, but at least I have control over this.  Instead, this morning in the paper I read about a woman with three horses who risked her life to walk to the barn and save them and stay with them until the fire had passed by.  I read another article about an organization that is bringing supplies for animals to one of the fires where the animals are sheltered, so that they have enough food and water and first aid supplies.

There is news out there that is uplifting.  In the same paper today someone wrote about a Cooper's Hawk that landed in their back yard and hung out a while.  The animal expert said it probably was attracted by thirst and was a bit afraid of their fountain.  This story brings compassion and attention to detail about the ramifications of the drought, as the other articles do about the effects of the fires.

And in each case there is something we can do, an action we can take to help the animals.  We can write a check or put out water in our yards for wild animals. 

And while we feel for the animals affected by these events, we can also truly help.  Now with the Republican Party, not so much.

Wandering Along the Path; Right Speech

I went to the post office this morning to mail wedding photos I'd printed out.  Better late than never and a picture is worth a thousand words, I hope.  I had a chat with the guy who mans the counter.  This is a young man who is friendly, even chatty, and super efficient at what he does.  He gets you another box if he can save you money, has advice that gets the package there quickly, and also remembers people.  Today he was talking about a new manager and how he's trying to remind the manager that if they have new procedures they need certain supplies.  He's covering his you-know-what by sending several copies of each memo to different people.  So there is pressure, and yet he's real.  Not false friendly but genuine and without sacrificing speed and efficiency while engaging with customers.

He's a Buddha in my world.  I look forward to talking to him, hearing his tips on saving money, and his take on stamps I select.  He likes the Elvis ones too.  Right speech is here all around us, if we take the time to really listen.  It's not in a zendo or church, it's out in the world where people attempt to do their work with a sense of service to others.  So look around you and learn.  Then you'll find your dharma.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There seems to be a kind of freer speech floating around in films right now on the subject of grandparents.  First I saw "Grandma", which has not a cosy, loveable grandma, but Lily Tomlin as a nasty, wisecracking, break all the rules grandma.  Her life has been a minefield, and she has hurt a lot of people blasting her way to her own personal drummer.  And yesterday, we saw "The Visit", where Shymalayan turns every cliche about grandparents up-side-down and brings us the grandparents from hell.  With references to Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel, he reminds us that crones are terrifying, especially to children.  The act of a mother entrusting her children to her parents becomes child abuse.  The director/writer has a lot of fun with the horrors of age as seen through a child's eyes:  crepey skin, incontinence, odd behaviors and the mysteries of old people.  I was not offended.  I remembered clearly how I felt when I was a child around my grandparents.  I loved them, but their skin, their breath, their funny ancient ways! 

For the first time, I thought about how being handed over by your parents to your grandparents for a visit can seem terrifying, and this is just when the grandparents adore you and want you to feel safe and loved.  Their house, their rules.  Too early bedtime perhaps, no nightlight because you are a big girl now, hating the food they put on your plate, wanting to watch TV.  It's disorienting, and your parents are where? 

As a grandparent, I welcome the breakage of the myth of cuddly grandparents.  There are as many types of grandparents as parents, and we welcome being fully humanized.  It's a lot of pressure baking cakes and wearing an apron and humming while you knit.  Sometimes we'd rather be dancing to rock and roll with our grandkids, and screaming on scary rides at the boardwalk. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

When I went to hear a Buddhist Abbott two days ago, I thumbed through the index to his book, to see if my teacher in the same Soto Zen tradition was listed.  She studied at the same time as he did, with the same teacher and she also graduated from the same University.  They must have known each other pretty well.  Yet her name was not there.  It felt to me like a kind of erasure.  She was a woman in a man's spiritual world, and she broke off and had her own zendo nearby.  She keeps getting written out of the history of the surge of meditation practice in my area.  Her stories and experience are amazing.  But she didn't have the luck to have a student who wanted to be her assistant, and compile her talks into a book, as so many other teachers have had. 

At one time, I considered helping her, and offered, but she wasn't willing or ready, and then she moved three hours driving away, and I decided not to take on that challenge of distance and time compounded.  I thought and still think she has so much to say about right speech, but instead of guiding her through a manuscript I'm writing this blog.  Why?  She has slipped cognitively and is unable to organize her thoughts or papers.  I could do a biography of her, but again, it would be time consuming and difficult, though her long term memory is in pretty good shape.  The short term memory, however, is agonized.  It feels like it's much too late to get accurate information from her, and therefore, I'd have to rely entirely on interviews with colleagues and friends.  Lots of time and travel.  And I'm no spring chicken myself.  I'm ten years younger.

So regret arose when I went to the reading, and sadness for my teacher.  Perhaps she will have the recognition she deserves, but I won't be a part of it, other than speaking of her to friends.  I'll always be grateful for her teachings, and pray for her now that she suffers from confusion and debilitation, but I've given up the idea of rescuing her place in the history of Buddhism in the west.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I saw the film "A Walk in the Woods" today, and it reminded me of how much a walk with a friend can open up conversation.  The physical exercise, as with walking meditation, can loosen the body enough to relax the communication process.  There is time for digression and confession and inconsequential give and take.  The defenses tend to come down and spontennaity goes up.  There is also the pause/silence thing, because of heavy breathing or slugs of water or needing to stop with your hands on your hips.  And how much less often I walk with friends nowadays, though I did walk with my friend last Friday morning, and it was fun and comforting and meaningful to me, as it is every time we walk.  I take the dogs, so there is lots of stopping for pooping and peeing, sniffing other dogs, dog talk with owners, and the like.  Although her dog is dead, she has the dog lover's tolerance for all this rigamarole. 

What a simple gift walking is, and how we do take it for granted, until we get sick, or break a foot, or the weather prohibits it.  All the great joys are that simple:  a hug, the beauty of a flower, a child's laughter, splashing in puddles.  I came out of the movie theater resolved to walk more, and with my brand new walking sticks from REI!!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday a friend seemed dazed and confused, and this morning my husband was in a similar condition.  We're of an age when these signs must be noticed and watched.  I told my friend I was concerned, and yes, she did seem more confused than I'd seen before.  This was after discussing her husband's behavior that was worrying her.  Today it's my own husband.  We are all nervous about cognitive impairment.  And we are each advocates for each other if we tell the truth when we have concerns.  This is hard speech, because we're not doctors and can only say what we feel.  Expressing our concern is as far as we can go.  Then a doctor's visit is warranted.

But our elders are mostly dead, and it's up to us to monitor each other silently at first, gently and with questions not diagnoses.  I hope my friends do the same for me.  Because perspective requires multiple takes on behavior, and quite a bit of courage to speak when changes occur.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I believe this is the day a year ago that my brother killed himself.  His body was not found until October 28, but it was badly decomposed, and the last check he wrote was September 11.  He suffered from paranoia and I'm guessing the anniversary of 9/11 played into his disturbed mind.  I have wondered and stayed up nights trying to figure out what his suicide note revealed.  I have waited for answers.  And now I'm at piece with the mystery of his mind, his life and his death.  HIS.  Not mine to dissect.  I have no right to KNOW.  I will live with uncertainty, as I do daily and hourly anyway.  Mostly I'm comfortable with it, sometimes I'm anxious and desperate.

Now there is only missing his being on this beautiful planet.  His ashes are in my guest bedroom (little irony there).  I will scatter them soon in the woods, where he had his happiest times as a child.  I am in a strange position, since I am the only one grieving him.  My sadness is solitary.  But my love is steadfast.  I loved him as my companion in childhood, I loved him when his suffering caused us great pain, I loved him when he sobered up, I loved him whenever he chose to see us, I loved him through the last thirteen years of his life, when he wouldn't see or speak to me.  There is no diminishment of the love now.  He is lodged permanently in my heart.  And how he died or lived is not connected to that love in any way.   The love just is.