Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just sent an email gently refusing a lovely offer of a party for my birthday.  The problem is I've imposed upon people this year for a wedding shower, baby shower, wedding, and been to another wedding party.  I'm all partied out.  I hope the person understands that I appreciate the thought, but am not up for more parties.  Also, I'm on call for the baby coming, and it could happen any time now.  A friend's grandson was just born a month early.  So all plans need to be fluid. 

I really considered my words carefully, and hope she understands.  This is such tricky business, but I'd been thinking for many months what I wanted to do for my birthday, and a big party was too deja vu.  I'm lucky, as my kids have a two night getaway planned and that sounds wonderful, but will be 10 adults plus 3 kids, so that qualifies as party group right there. 

In the past, I would not have had the nerve to say no.  I'd be so afraid of hurting a friend's feelings, and go through with something I did not want just because it was such a nice offer.  I'm a lot more honest than I used to be.  I still don't wish to hurt anyone else, but I'm kinder to myself as well.  Gee, it almost feels like I'm getting to be a grownup!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm back from a visit to my older son and his wife, who are one month away from their baby due date.  I felt my daughter-in-law was very tactful about wanting a doula instead of either her mother or I.  I supported her, because my mother was never present at any of my births, and both mother-in-laws were uninvolved completely.  The minute I came home from the hospital I wanted my mother right there, and that is what my daughter-in-law is doing.  I'm taking the shift until a certain date, then her mother flies out for three weeks.  After that I'm sure I'll be there to help out whenever asked. 

My daughter-in-law is very calm and collected, and she will be great through the labor and delivery, especially with the doula right with her.  I appreciate the way she thinks of my feelings and includes me in the preparations.  We shopped for slippers for the hospital, the baby list from the medical people, and chatted a bit about being fluid about what kind of birth or medication she wants.  She knows anything can happen, and is not rigid about scenarios.  While we were talking a friend who's son and daughter-in-law were due at the same time called and her blood pressure had spiked and they did an emergency C section.  Mother and baby are fine, and he's still 5lbs 10 oz even though he's a month early.  So we had an object lesson in flexibility first hand.

I'm touched to be a part of this process of life giving and new family.  I hope my support is helpful and well chosen.  I want to be the best mother-in-law I can be.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was saying to someone the other day that writing a blog about right speech has turned out to be ironic for me.  It's more about what I don't say, silence, a lot of the time.  When I went for a walk with my friend who cancels on me frequently, we avoided the topic of our tiff.  I felt I'd said all I wanted to say in the emails, and luckily, she seemed to feel the same.  Neither of us attempted to persuade the other to her point of view.  We let the peace of respecting each other's feelings alone.  Now that doesn't mean there isn't a subtext from now on:  I will be wary of plans and also feel freer to cancel if I wish and I imagine she will not cancel unless she has a better reason than something more interesting coming up.  She may also be kinder to herself by not overbooking herself into a corner.

So we've learned some things.  We each have stories about the other, and we got a little wake up call.  We are not Mutt and Jeff.  Our decisions are reached differently because we are not very much alike.  That's fine, as long as I don't assume she's one thing or the other.  She's complicated, and has some qualities that are difficult, as do I.  She is a person who needs others to clarify their boundaries, as hers are looser.  I'm a person who is cautious and careful with others, and maybe I'd rather be more carefree, but given my history, I have to have my boundaries and don't want anyone stepping over them.  Nothing's bad or good, just the way we're built.

The opportunity presented by our tiff is getting back to specifics, not general projections and convenient "stories" that don't really fit us.  Now I know again she has a temper when someone says stop, and I need to say stop occasionally, as she will sometimes be trying to push beyond what I'm comfortable with.  No right or wrong.  Just who we are.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm still itchy, and no sure whether to be patient or call the doctor back and ask.  I'm much better, but I'd like some reassurance, but that wars with my feeling embarassed about maybe being seen as a big fat baby, and I can't make up my mind.  Be an idiot and call or worry.  Hummm.  It's a tough choice.

Why is it so hard for me to call the doctor?  It could be my stoic upbringing:  no whining no sympathy.  It could be paranoia about my health, as I have plenty of that to go around.  It could be needing more sympathy than I get, as my husband is not a nurturing sort of guy.  He tends to be pretty self absorbed unless you wave flags or get angry. 

It's just an ity bitty phone call.  Will I do it?  Evidently not until I agonize some more.  After all, that's my M.O.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I could have used a little right speech a few minutes ago, when the mother of my foster granddaughter casually asked in an email if I was picking the child up from school today.  I replied that no one had asked me or said anything, and it's only about three hours until she should be picked up.  I'm old fashioned:  I like to be asked far enough ahead to plan and adjust.  I'm response will no doubt elicit an apology, but I am annoyed.  Of course, I will pick up my granddaughter.

I understand how busy the mom is, as she is a teacher in another school district, and has a preschooler as well.  I understand.  But she is not understanding me at all.  The truth is, I think she forgot until she got to her school this morning.  I am Dependable Doting Grandmother.  But sometimes I'd like her to imagine I have a life myself, and friends and appointments and I value my time.  What a concept!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Lots of dramatic speech yesterday, when stocks plummeted before our very eyes.  Today, the headline in the newspaper screamed:  "Down, Down, Down".  I managed to stay relatively calm, but succumbed to calling my investment advisor in the afternoon.  She said all the things I knew she would say, but I felt better hearing them anyway.  A better headline would have been "Fear, Fear, Fear".  Everybody said a correction was coming, but the same everybody was somehow surprised.  Wishful thinking is so prevalent in humans that it supercedes rationality or reliable information.

We got scared.  We don't want change, unless its for the better.  Life is about change.  But it's equally about our resisting it.  We desire the false sense of security.  We're attracted to those who promise what cannot ever be delivered.  Perhaps that explains Trump's allure to certain people.  He's going to turn back the clock.  He has so much money he must be right.  Let's target people to blame, rather than face our fears and adjust to current reality.

And the irony of all the people who have no stock to protect.  They haven't gambled, yet are dependent on those who do for their jobs and way of life.  I wish wall street wasn't Las Vegas East, but it is.  Brokers belong in gamblers anonymous.  The buzz of the risk hurts the rest of us.  Yet again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I dropped by my friend's house this morning with a dozen yellow roses to cheer her up.  She fell on her own stairs and has two black eyes and a huge bump on her forehead.  She describes herself as looking like a raccoon.  We chatted for an hour and laughed a lot.  She talked about getting cabin fever, and I've been feeling that way myself.  I like to think I can go somewhere even if I have nowhere to go.  The real elephant in the room is aging.  We've both fallen, been ill and worry about shingles and other dreaded signs of old age.  Luckily, we're in the same boat.  We're able to speak of our fears, share information and garner support.  But some days it's hard.  Yellow roses help, but not enough.

I have friends further along this path than myself.  I see how well they cope with disabilities, loss of spouses, the restriction of their activities.  They are my guides.  They remind me I am not less because I'm older, not less interesting, less valuable in their take on our lives, not less fun because we aren't hiking the mountaintops.  We're adjusting.  Gently, kindly and with great compassion for each other and the world.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm having a very quiet weekend; just me and my rash.  I'm all greased up with cortisone ointment, and right now the only thing itching is my right cheekbone, but I feel unfit for any company, and somewhat grumpy.  I read yesterday and watched an old movie "Body Heat".  It holds up, with a well written script and a nice twist.  The woman, Maddie, knows just what to say to get the guy to fall hook, line and sinker.  And she has the body to back it up.  There are several morals to the story:  if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is, and don't mess with married women.  William Hurt and Kathleen Turner make the whole thing work, and one is aware and admiring of the wit of the story.  This time it is the guy who's the dumb blond, and she's the shark you should never swim with. 

I saw Kathleen Turner recently in a play about Molly Ivins, and she was terrific.  I'm not sure what took her out of the Oscar track.  Maybe the weight gain, maybe personal problems, but she's quite a talent.  Her husky voice is mesmerizing, and she has charisma a mile long.  It almost doesn't matter what she says, in her case, it's how she says it.  Words are good, but there is a whole lot more about the voice that repels or attracts us.  Deepness, raspyness, tremor, accent.  We respond to everything.  So when we're working with right speech, we should also be cognizant of tone and pitch and all the other factors in play.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday afternoon a friend and her two granddaughters stopped by to give me a little basket with crook neck squash and cherry tomatoes and a bouquet of flowers, all from my friend's back yard.  What a charmingly old fashioned act of kindness!  My friend is instilling in the girls the gift of sharing.  Included was a lovely card, with best wishes for me.  There was no occasion, and they did not know I have quite a rash until they saw me.  The most delightful thing about their act was that it had no reason - just old fashioned neighborliness.

I asked them how their visit had gone and wished them a safe trip back on the plane, and felt my day rescued from itching and grogginess from benadryl to quite a lovely warm feeling.

There used to be that old manipulative commercial "Say it with flowers".  Yes, it was a calculated guilt trip inducing aim at our vulnerabilities, but it was taking advantage of a truth:  flowers cheer up everyone and the effort to be so considerate is almost always appreciated.  But how much better that this basket of goodies came from the garden which my friend worked and weeded and watered and nurtured.  I truly know the effort involved in this gift.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched an old sci-fi movie, "War Games", last night.  It has a great message, and if you think about it after it's over, it examines military mentality in an interesting way.  So many exercises and games played over and over, and the momentum is to carry them out to their logical conclusion.  Decisions, either made by computers or humans, are fallible.  Somehow the public wants to rest in the delusion that people are highly skilled and trained, computers can't make mistakes, and we don't have to think about any of it.  Pretty scary.

People justify a lot of behavior by calling it "just a game".  Games have adversaries, and operate on concepts like black and white.  Games are not as complex as the real world, but they build themselves into the real world.  Pressing buttons for detonation begins with kids' computer and video games.  There is a disconnect being subtly built into the person playing the game.  Winning is the object, and actions have to be taken so quickly that there is no times to figure out nuances and complexities. 

It reminds me of the great book "Thinking Fast and Slow".  When we think quickly we tend to make unwise choices or go with impulsive behaviors.  When we cultivate slow thinking, and search for more and varied information, we tend to behave more rationally and wisely.  Yet we train the military for fast thinking, and our culture does the same for the rest of us.  The pause is key.  And no one is cultivating that behavior at all.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I have developed a rash that itches like crazy and I went to the doctor this morning to see about it.  There I could practice advocating for myself by getting the appointment, bringing eye drops that could be the culprit, and discussing whether it was shingles or some other dread disease.  He reassured my right away that it was some contact dermatitis, probably from cream I put on my own stupid self.  I'm itching like crazy and quite lumpy, and of course I had a party this afternoon for a dear friend an a therapy appointment.  I asked for prescription cortisone ointment because the over the counter stuff is filled with additives that I can't tolerate.  I whisked myself in and out with a kind of answer and medication.  I have since slathered ointment on my arms, neck and face, and notice how lumpy and itchy I still am.  No instant miracle cure for me.

So I cancelled the party early this morning and now have uncancelled, though I'm still unsure.  To go or not to go, that is the question.  I will cover up and not touch anyone, but it's a bit like being a leper at a gathering.  Oh, dear.  And to think I probably caused this myself, by slathering myself with anti-aging skin repair of some sort.  Back to basics.  I shall age rapidly and blithely look like a newspaper on the street.  But I won't be rashy or lumpy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent some time yesterday talking to birds in the pet store.  My granddaughter was oogling the bunnies, but I struck up conversations with Paris and Fern.  Paris is a large gray cockatoo with bright orange feathers in his tail.  He can say "Hello",  "Hello Paris" and "Hello Sweetie".  He was intent on my talking to him, absolutely riveted.  "Fern" is a bright green smaller bird with neon yellow feathers underneath.  She can dance and bob her head and knows her name, but whistles back at you when you speak to her.  Her whistle is shrill and about as startling as a siren.  These birds are hugely social and delight in conversation.  The pleasure is in engaging them and recognizing them as intelligent creatures. 

I love my visits with the birds, and marvel at their beauty and friendliness.  There are always visiting birds as well as ones for sale, so the variety is endless, and the owners appreciate any help socializing with them.  Whenever we go, we are at least 30 minutes in the store, with my granddaughter enraptured with the bunnies, cats and guinea pigs, while I am a bird person all the way.  I've never had a bird, except hurt birds we tried to rescue, but my grandmother had parakeets and my brother had cockatoos and peach faced lovebirds.  I don't want one as a pet, because the thought of it being unable to fly free is too disturbing to me.  Also, they are delicate and can't be in drafts.  But visiting them and having an intelligent conversation is delightful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just had a nice long phone conversation with a friend who just moved north.  We talked about birth experiences, since we are both awaiting the birth of a grandchild at the same time.  Then painting, Hawaiian shells, the Turner art exhibit and other diverse topics.  The point was to feel connected, even though we can't see each other.  I never mind taking this time out of whatever I'm doing, and it fortifies me for my daily life, which is filled with routines and duties and the ordinary stuff of life. 

My friend had a 72 hours labor the first time and a 7 hour labor the second.  My four labors were 5 hours, 29 minutes, 2 hours and 6 hours.  I know how fortunate I am, and appreciate that other's experiences might give them a different view about childbirth.  But we both understand that we were fortunate to have healthy babies, and that there are hidden dangers that arise even in labor and delivery.  We know not every baby is perfect, not every experience a happy one, and that no doctor or hospital or procedure can guarantee us anything.  So we are holding our breath, praying for our children and grandchildren to make it through the process successfully.  Each will have similar but vastly different experiences.  It's universal and very, very particular.

Respecting difference and being in awe of the gift of life.  These are lessons relearned again and again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As I was walking the dogs this morning early, attempting to avoid the heat, I stopped to talk to my neighbor up the street.  First we chatted about the eathquake this morning, then the heat, then I asked about her hip (she's had it replaced) and then her Parkinson's.  She said it has worsened and I asked if she was still doing exercise classes for people with the disease.  Two neighbors approached and I introduced her to them and we discussed the earthquake, heat and fires all over again.

After I went on my way, I examined the fact that I'd mentioned about her Parkinson's, and concluded it was the right thing to do.  She seemed comfortable discussing it and instinctually I felt it was worse not saying anything; kind of like the elephant in the room.  She strikes me as an indomitable woman, who has weathered her husband's death and other sufferings, and she appears strong and blessed with a relaxed good nature.

I don't usually offer to help, and I didn't today, but I've offered previously, so she knows I'm willing.  She's a kind of silent hero of mine.

But mostly, we talked about her peonies, which I told her gave me so much pleasure when they were blooming, and how I'd tried twice to grow them in my yard without success.  I explained that just along the driveway at our house in Colorado, there were many bushes of peonies.  I miss them, I told her.  There is so much beauty to found if we look carefully.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's hot and there is the smell of smoke in the air from fires much further northeast.  For us, heat and drought send up shivers of fear.  It's around this time of year we remember the firestorm, and two years ago fierce fires that caused us to evacuate our cabin.  It's also the time of the big earthquake and one from along time ago when I lived in Santa Rosa.  So we talk about the weather, but really we're jumpy because we've done the wet towels under the doors thing, the packing up the pets and papers thing, the praying thing.  Nobody speaks directly of this fearsome time of year, when the weather is at it's most beautiful, like a trick of the mind.  We joke about the weather getting summery as soon as school begins, the plants and trees attempting to stand up to the parched earth, but it's not really funny.

I guess people joke when confronted by something so much bigger than themselves that their powerlessness looks a might ridiculous.  Yes, we're conserving water and letting lawns dry out, but really, the whim of lightening, the spark deep in the forest is beyond our ability to control.  We're watchers.  We watch what nature chooses to do.  Helplessly.

So does naming the fear have any power?  If we are preventative it may, as we stock up on water and supplies, figure out an exit route, meet in our block groups to designate the first aid house and the house with the generator.  But a fire could sweep right to the bay, and none of us would get away in the smash of traffic that would be solidifying the roads.  We know that.  We feel it.  It's really unnameable. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A lot of campaign speech is hurling my way via emails.  The rhetoric is scare tactical, and I don't bother to read it.  When you address me as if I can't figure politics out on my own, then I can't help you.  There aren't candidates for me.  My favorite Presidential election vote was Shirley Chisholm, and that was a long, long time ago.  I once was a delegate for Jesse Jackson.  Otherwise, I vote without enthusiasm.  Vision is not marketable these days, and I have to be comforted by the fact that we have finally elected an African American as President and possibly soon will elect a woman.  But both are hawkish and boxed in by notions of capitalism and globalism.  Nobody is fighting multinational corporations and their interests.  We accommodate.  And the country is rife with fear.  What divides us is fear that our greatness as a country is now history, that our absurdly abundant way of life cannot continue and is unsustainable, and the heavy responsibility we bear for our example and wasting of resources.  Underneath, we are ashamed.  So some of us blame others of us, but there is no naming of the malaise. 

Is it any wonder?  Jimmy Carter attempted to name some truths and conserve our energy, and people held their hands over their ears.  We preferred the lies of Ronald Reagan.  Because they comforted us.  But grown ups, and a grown up country, must see clearly what the problems are and the sources of those problems, and no one in the coming election is going to address the fear and the adjustment it would take to be honest and responsible citizens in this world.  Because then they really wouldn't stand a chance of being elected.  So there is nothing to hear worth listening to, and all I can do is try to hold my representatives accountable in my own small way.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm thinking about when words fail.  Any strong emotion makes speech seem inadequate, and great beauty viewed often has the same effect.  My husband, daughter and I are visiting a Turner show at an art museum this morning, and knowing Turner's work, especially this late work, I expect to be at a loss for words.  I carry a little art journal with me when I see shows, but inside you will mainly find the date and show as well as the names of certain paintings or sculptures I especially admired.  I seldom get to any kind of expressive description.  I love that about art and music:  the heart is exploding and the voice silenced.  Any words I speak seem woefully inadequate.

This is why meditation is steeped in silence.  Something deep is going on, too deep for words to penetrate.  The silence is like a blanket wrapping me up in the Buddha's embrace. 

I am grateful I still have enough vision to see these amazing works of art, and experience the joy of timeless devotion to the natural world and human beings' ode to this amazing, dazzling universe in which we are temporary guests.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, my friend has responded and I've replied to clarify my point of view.  After a cooling off period we will I'm sure be able to resume seeing each other, but certainly with trepidation on my part.  I've told her I'll consider any plan tentative and feel free to cancel at the last minute.  If she wants or needs that flexibility, I expect to have that option as well. 

She is flaky at times, and yet the more she's been insensitive, the more she feels entitled to be, so I drew a boundary.  She's one of those people who does not accept others' boundaries without a fight.  A few months ago she insisted she didn't need a wear a seat belt and I refused to start my car until she did.  She tested me on several more occasions, and I sat there without moving until she buckled up.  What that is all about I have no idea, but she clearly wants to "be the boss of her own self"!

I have a wide variety of friends, and she and I share some interests that I value, so we'll see how a more cautious approach on my part feels when next we meet.  I don't know yet if this is a deal breaker or a bump in the road.  But my trust is eroded, and this may be a whole different road we now travel, or, we will be driving in separate cars from now on.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, my friend sent me an email yesterday saying she was glad I "understood" about her cancelling our lunch.  That got me jumping off the fence, and I replied that I did not understand, she had hurt my feelings, it wasn't the first time this kind of thing has happened, and I felt quite low on her totem pole.

No reply to my response up until now.  But I realized I was protecting her, and myself, from the truth, and I should have protested her behavior a long time ago.  I get caught in wanting to be "nice", "kind", "thoughtful" and other adjectives that I'd like to apply to myself, even if it means I'm false to myself and delusional about how compassionate I really am.  So I burst my own bubble, and it feels like a relief to be "hurt", "grumpy", "annoyed", and not "generous".  I'm human, though I sometimes seem to have a tough time admitting it.

My ignoring her behavior up until now has not caused her to be grateful or more fond of me.  She's been blissfully ignorant thanks to my falsity.  So payback is so not happening.  I'm the one that screwed up our relationship by protecting her.  I protected her from who I really am and how I view some of her actions toward me.  So, no more Mrs. Nice Guy.  Just me, bursting with feelings and delusions and pretentions.  I hope she can adjust.  But if she can't at least I can.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I have a friend who cancels on me.  I've imagined a lot of excuses for her each time it happens, but my sense of allowances is stretching quite thin at this point.  I was taking her out to lunch for her birthday, and asked where she wanted to go.  She picked a pricey place, where I had to make reservations, and I did so, despite being super busy.  Then she woke me up at 7:40 this morning to say she had invited a friend and her family for dinner, and didn't feel up to having lunch.  I am now waiting for nine am to be able to call and cancel the lunch reservation.

I want to confront her, but how?  I cannot dredge up the details of the other last minute cancellations, because I don't bear grudges, yet this definitely is a pattern.  It makes me feel unvalued as a friend.  I'm hurt.  I tried to do something special for her and she's seeing it as a bother.  I'm more inclined to just move away from her and avoid what will be a messy talk without any real clarity, because I've been down this road with her before.  Am I being cowardly?  Who cares?  I do not believe this person really has a lot of understanding of others' points of view.  And she has a temper.  Am I scared of anger?  You bet.  I really, really don't like confrontations. 

I definitely need a cooling off period.  So I can figure out what to say, if anything.  But the writing is on the wall.  This person is not a friend I can trust.  I feel sad about that.  But I'm going to try not to take it personally.  She is difficult.  But she's making it not worth the effort to ride through the difficulties.  In which case, there is no point in having a talk, if I don't have the heart to work things out.  Oh, dear, I need to think on this!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been thinking recently of all the speech one ought to keep to oneself.  Yesterday, my husband was complaining about this and that, all trivial, and I stopped him and asked if he'd wanted to go out to brunch so he could list all the things he's dissatisfied about.  I told him if that was the case then I was getting up and walking home.  Some speech needs to be kept private, or censored and if he thought I was the dumping ground for bad thoughts I did not want to be quite that convenient.  I believe in courtesy even between spouses.  I do not want or need to know ALL his thoughts.  Speech between spouses can get pretty sloppy, but after all, what better practice field than showing respect and caution about what one says aloud?

This pouring out of raw data to spouses is dangerous, because it leaves the other stuck with the words and his/her reactions to those thoughts often better not spoken.  The idea that "we two become one" is a catastrophe.  You're still separate individuals who need to keep up the etiquette even more carefully than with anyone else, if you're serious about a life long commitment.  The eroding of respect for each other is often followed by decrease in fondness.  So take care with those you love the best:  they are no dumping ground for impulsive and unwise feelings and thoughts.  Keep some stuff to yourself or write it down and burn it.  Otherwise you risk your relationship over a bit of carelessness.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was a baby shower for my daughter-in-law and lots of right speech occurred.  People are kind and gentle when engaged in such a happy event.  And my daughter-in-law has the benefit not only of the party and baby gifts, but all the lovely words with which she was showered.  She stayed  quite a while after, and I could see her basking in the love and support.  It was sweet that a cousin was there with her nine month old baby, showing just how delightful motherhood is going to be.  This little boy was babbling and communicating right speech:  I'm happy, delighted with the world, and I love all these women paying attention to me!  His words were crystal clear.

It's been an event filled year for me:  my younger daughter's wedding, a big birthday celebration for my granddaughter at seven, several friends and myself turning 70, a birth coming in September, a trip with my best friend in October, and my eye needing medical treatment.  Everything compresses together as you get older, and all these events take some savoring effort before they're gone.  And the words, the words linger, of love, support, gratitude, care and kindness.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been trying to correct an order on Amazon, but I'm stuck.  There is no phone number, and the prompts online are not helping.  This is when I'd like an old fashioned human being to talk to.  It's so frustrating and wastes so much time when really, the glitch is theirs, but it's up to me to figure it out.  I've gotten a suggestion from my son, so I guess I'll try his idea.

Communication online has it's downside.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a mammogram this morning and the technician really hurt me trying to get me situated.  It was so painful, and yet I forced myself to thank her at the end.  I am grateful for the technology, and I know she was well intentioned.  Maybe unskilled, but not sadistic.  It was not a pleasant experience, and I found myself teary at the end, thinking of what my daughter and friends of mine have gone through with breast cancer.

I could complain, but perhaps the pain serves a purpose.  If it does not, then I've made a mistake not to speak up for other women.  It was a close call, but I opted to assume the best and not get an employee in trouble.  I may feel differently later.  To speak or not to speak, that is the question.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've already talked to my accountant taking care of my brother's tax returns.  Talk about wrong speech and miscommunication - try contacting the IRS.  Thank goodness I have him to try to straighten things out.  And then I called the title company for closing my brother's house and though she was chipper enough, she sounded eight years old and did not address my question at all.  Hopefully, the closing will go through despite lack of communication.

This will be funny, but not for another year or so. 

Soon no communication will be the norm, and I can move on from the grief and headache of my brother's death and his possessions and think of other things.  I've had some great ideas from my family about memorials to my brother, and that bit of business is where I'd like to place my focus.  But it's good I didn't do anything right away, because before I was thinking of rehab facilities and now I am going to put his money where his passions lay:  animal shelters, opera, classical music, a bench along a lake he knew well.  He had many joys and enthusiasms, and they represent him more positively and truthfully than his problems.  The bench would be a place where we could come and remember him and the good times we had when he was alive.

Closure.  I'm not sure how much honesty is in that term, but at least the time is here for settling his affairs and not allowing his death to swallow me up any longer.  Soon there will be only memories, not accounts and checks and distribution.  I'm ready.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my Tibetan teacher talked about our bodies, and how we suffer when we don't respect them and hold them sacred.  That got me thinking about words we use to describe our bodies:  the relentless "I'm fat"s and "I'm a dog"s.  We denigrate ourselves and not only alone but in front of others.  We do the constant comparing:  a veritable nest of vipers.  And the culture comes to our aid to correct our defects:  makeup, diets, antiaging creams, cosmetic surgery, wigs, camoflage clothes.  We could be perfect if only we'd buy, buy buy. 

I made a promise to myself long ago to not criticize myself, or even think about the face and body in the mirror too hard.  I watch what I eat and exercise for health reasons, and I take care of my skin to ward off skin cancer, and I am careful about clothes and shoes I can walk in.  I like wearing earrings and enjoy shopping for my pleasure, but I don't attempt to match the covers of magazines.  Jamie Lee Curtis years ago did all us gals a great service by having herself photographed without the makeup and tricks that convince us she looks better than us.  We'd look as good if we had seven assistants working their magic.  I appreciate her bravery.  We now know that magazines use body doubles, as do films, and with technology create a lie for the public to believe. 

Cooperating with those who make money off our insecurities is self defeating.  Speaking harshly about ourselves is ingratitude for the amazing bodies we possess.  Tearing ourselves down is cruel and, unfortunately, usual punishment.  Speak kindly to and about your body.  It is your life, and it is uniquely yours.  Treasure it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've had two weeks in the mountains, and little need for speech.  I find I'm quieter as I get older, and would rather listen than speak.  I'm a better listener than I used to be.  On the occasions when speaking was the order of the day, I did well, because I was relaxed.  Nowadays, there is nothing I feel I have to prove - no credentials to present.  I see others making great effort to define themselves, and I have no similar urge.  I just want the moment, the connection, but fresh, without background.  I have many long term friends to whom I need no introduction, and others can think what they want of me.  I'm not trying to control my image any more.  It's very freeing.

So now as I enter a week when I will have many interactions and a baby shower to host, I feel ready to keep  myself balanced and open.  This getting away is a gift, and I deeply appreciate it.