Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm attempting to get back to a normal routine after the flurry of the holiday, and I've missed not logging in daily to help me center my mind.  I was a sea in a world of groceries and cooking and wrapping and texting and post offices and packages and thank yous and calls.  We had a lovely quiet dinner Christmas eve with our youngest, her husband and new baby, and feasted on pot roast and root vegetables and baked Alaska (from an ice cream shop) for dessert.  Yesterday they were present again as well as our oldest, his wife, their one year old son and our daughter-in-law's mother.  Lots of rocking of babies and keeping stuff away from the toddler, and playing and eating two big meals.  I pulled off the meals well, and everyone enjoyed themselves.  Gratitude was resplendent.  The young ones made us super aware of the birth of the baby long ago.  And the joy of the toddler towards wrapping paper and ribbon, and his gifts made our day.
I think everyone was extra careful with their speech.  Disagreements were let go instantly, and all were striving for amiability and succeeded.  Everyone was gone by six thirty.  My husband washed the dishes and I dried them, then I read in bed until a reasonable time, after having a long, hot soak in the bath.  Ah, bless the families!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're receiving a lot of rain and it feels like a blessing.  Up north my family and friends are experiencing snow.  My granddaughter has email now and she sent me a picture of the snow.  It's wonderful to be in contact with her this way.  It's fun and light and she is the emoji princess, so proud of herself.  She never was one for hanging onto a phone and talking.  Her mother tried speakerphone, but my granddaughter would twirl around out of range anyway, and was usually busy hopping on the sofa or trying to show me something over the phone.  Now we can do face time, but still, she's usually not keen on it, so the email is a joy for me.  The thought is mother to the word:  I know she's thinking of me when she writes.  It's a blessing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had tea this afternoon with a friend and we "caught up".  It was raining out and she had a gas fire in the fireplace and the dog was on her cushion before it.  We sat on the sofa together and I relayed the drama of my grandson's birth and she her plans for the holidays and we talked of lemon trees and growing orchids and really, just connecting again after a few weeks not seeing each other.  I love this catching up thing.  I love witnessing and being witnessed.  I love the rain after a long drought.  And that is what friendship feels like to me - rain that refreshes and nourishes.  I'm moisturized!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I took a walk and she was describing to me her recent five day retreat.  I was so happy for her and proud of myself for being her initiation buddy around meditation.  She began going with me to my teacher's dharma talks right after she had a serious bout of illness that landed her in the hospital for many weeks.  Now she derives comfort and direction from the Buddhist path, and whether we go together or not, she pursues her journey on her own.  We have a great tenderness with each other and I love sharing our path and experiences on the way.  I'm kinda proud of myself.  I never pushed anything, but she could see it was making a difference for me, and she asked questions and everything led slowly and gently from there.  I'm not out to convert anyone, but I'm pleased that changes in me have been noticed.  I must be doing something right some of the time!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling a little buzz of anxiety about my daughter and the baby and the holiday tasks before me.  My daughter is exhausted, like all new mothers, and has no down time as the baby is nursing, crying and evidently not sleeping much.  I feel powerless, because she wants to nurse whenever he cries, and evidently the books are saying to do so, whereas I worry about her sore breasts and her exhaustion.  She is so conscientious.  This early period will be over, but I doubt she can see that right now.  The baby will become curious and will be more distractable, but so far he's furiously eating his way through life.  I'll go over and keep her company and hold and rock the baby, but it's too soon for a bottle and so my power to ease the situation is limited.
With the holiday tasks, it's much easier, and I write lists, check off tasks and get out a bit while doing so.  But all the while my mother's instinct is pulling me to worry about my daughter.  I know she is fine, but I have so much empathy, perhaps too much, and I wish I could do more.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm getting my settled after our daughter's giving birth, as is she.  It's great to see the confidence growing and the little fellow settling in to the world.  This new family's change is monumental, but it reminds me how disorienting change for the better can be.  It's like a body blow and you walk around stunned.  To our daughter it literally was a body blow, but the rest of us are exhausted and slow and unable to focus really well.  And baby is blinking his eyes, crying, stretching, startling and doing his best to adjust to this very noisy, bright, strange world.  Luckily, everyone adores him and I'm sure he feels that body to body. 
But it makes me think about those births which are lonely and unsupported, without two parents, without security and loads of loving relatives, and how they struggle to survive.  It makes me think about "Moonlight" and the young boy of a single mother who is addicted to crack and his loneliness and pain.  Bless all those children who don't have what they should have as a birthright, and may they receive help and care and modeling and love somewhere along their way.  And may we strive to be a better society that cares for these children, values them, and gives them support.  They are floating angels that we must embrace and hold.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I love all the information our daughter is getting about breastfeeding and the baby.  She also can call a nurse day or night.  When I think back to my babies, I was really on my own.  By the last one I had La Leche to call and ended up in a toddler group so all the mothers shared experiences and information.  But I was pretty much on my own.  My own mother hadn't nursed us and nursing was rare in those days.  I'm amazed I soldiered through.  I remember my mother discouraging me from nursing my first.  I believe she thought it was embarrassing and she also wanted to be able to handle him better herself, which meant a bottle.  This new openness is refreshing and so supportive.  I had to almost hide out to nurse, and certainly never do it in public.  They shamed us for wanting the best for our babies and fighting to give them the best nutrition.  Seeing the confidence in my other daughter and daughter-in-law, and now this daughter is happiness indeed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

So much right speech around the birth of a baby!  A balm to the soul, especially after the election.  This baby starts fresh and in uninterested in anything but the love coming his way.  And right now I'm in his groove, as they say.  There is never enough praising and admiring and cuddling and smiles.  Tomorrow I'm back to the real world with a dentist appointment and errands, but today I'm going to float in happiness.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our new little grandson was born yesterday in the afternoon, and I was with my daughter and her husband throughout labor and delivery.  My daughter kept thanking me for being there, and I was so touched by all the love they both expressed and how instantly in love with their son they were.  What a privilege it was to witness such joy.  The nurses and doctor were encouraging and kind, and the atmosphere one of support and kindness.  What a miracle the entire birth process is, and how like warriors we women are.  We are fierce and courageous and determined.  We breathe through the pain for the baby.  Every woman who has given birth is a hero to me.  I believe we should be proud of our power and our capacity for bringing a living being into the world.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I saw the movie "Loving" yesterday and wept at the end.  Not only is it a beautiful film, and well acted, but it is a true story.  My weeping also had to do with the realization that I had been shut out from Virginia in that era by my own interracial marriage.  I knew I didn't dare take my husband to see where I'd spent the longest period of my childhood, even though I wanted badly to show him the beautiful spot where I'd lived.  We were rural Virginia, in the Tidewater region, and as children my brother and friends and I had complete freedom.  We could bike to the Rappahanock River ten miles away, and my mother would simply tell us to be home by dinner.  We wandered in the woods alone.  In the movie, Mildred Loving yearns to be back in the country with her family, and I understood immediately that longing.  I married my husband at nineteen, and when my best childhood friend's husband was killed in Vietnam I was in Fiji, but when she remarried she wanted me at the wedding, but I couldn't bring my husband and baby there.  Too dangerous.  We knew we couldn't be seen in a car together in that area. 
And after my husband died, I still had two mixed race children I did not want exposed to that kind of hatred.  So I stayed away, though we visited my friend and her new husband in Indiana where they settled on his parents' farm. 
Yesterday, I thought of the loss.  The fear.  The shame of being different.  The trips I did not make to Virginia or Missouri, where my parents' were from.  I thought of how much it hurt me then and still hurts now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our whole family was together for Thanksgiving, and we had a lovely day.  We went around the table giving thanks, and we all affirmed that politics will not make us negative about people.  Everyone helped cook, and everyone got down on the floor and played with the one year old.  We are all excited about the coming baby, now overdue a week, but bound to arrive next week.  We had a beautiful day and many took a walk among the fall folliage.  Yesterday we went to a museum with the eight year old, and walked around outside as well.  Then some of us went to a nursery for holiday ornaments, and then the crew had Greek food together at a cafe we could walk to.  This morning we sent our daughter and granddaughter off to the airport in pouring rain, but the two days that mattered were crisp and sunny.  Everyone's speech was careful, as our daughter is divorcing her husband, and his two sons were with their mother.  We know they will still be in our lives in some way, but we await our daughter's directions.  For her, she's feeling her way through a painful time, and may not yet know what she wishes.  But I dared to ask about the boys for the holidays and she said yes to sending them presents as I had planned.  Change is complicated and touchy and I think our family supported and loved without questioning.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, I've done about all I can until tomorrow.  And I'll have a lot of help then.  And like my daughter, I've said about all that can be said about the baby not being born yet, and heard all the stories about babies who were late one or two weeks.  It doesn't seem to comfort my daughter and its not doing much for me either, so I've retreated to a quiet place where its one day at a time, and lots of going easy on myself.  I'm excited about the holiday and seeing my older daughter and my granddaughter.  What a treat!  I've ordered for my grandson, and figured out what to order from my granddaughter for Christmas.  Somewhere between now and then is my pregnant daughter's birthday, my granddaughter's dad's birthday and my best friend's birthday, but I have ideas.  Yesterday a box was delivered that I ordered for my husband and myself:  new robes and pajamas.  It seems self indulgent and luxurious to get something right now.  But it's fun.  I love my robe.  It's snuggy and cosy for winter and so soft.  I'm pampering myself.  A little gift to myself before the holidays hit full bore. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our daughter is five days past her due date and feeling low.  She's having too much time to worry about the baby.  I told her today that Buddhists say, "Don't believe what you think".  Her hormones are whacky and she's uncomfortable, tired, and unable to focus well on anything else, naturally.  I feel bad for her, but this is the fate of 50% of women who give birth after their due date.  There is little reassurance for her at this point.  She wants her baby.  I pray for her and the baby, but I'm helpless to do much more than keep her company as she picks up a curtain rod at Target and take her out to lunch.  We are all in a holding pattern, and the fact that a holiday is coming up makes it a bit more tense.  I'm trying to make what food I can ahead, in case I'm in the hospital with my daughter on the day.  Tomorrow morning I pick up the turkey, then will brine it and have it sit in the refrigerator for two days.  One pie is baked and frozen, as is the cranberry sauce, and I'll do the other two pies and soup tomorrow.  I want to be prepared for whatever comes whenever.  Hah!  Spoken like a woman with delusions of control!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're all waiting for a baby.  I feel the tug of being near.  I was thinking of going to meditation and dharma talk but couldn't bear the thought of being that far away if my daughter was beginning labor here.  I'm not saying I'm needed, they will do fine.  It's that my heart is tied to hers and the baby's right now.  I always feel that tie with my little grandson, and the pull can be so strong it hurts.  And I'll never forget leaving my granddaughter when they moved up north and just passing through the city on the freeway made me want to jump out of the car and rush to her doorstep.  My love is that deep and wide, and it expands with every grandchild.  I feel the absence as they are busy with their lives.  I'm connected even if they don't feel it.  In the old days Indians would tie their breast skin and hang from it.  It's that strong.  What strange and wonderful blessings these grandchildren bring us.  They teach us what is important and how to be silent in our need to be near them, for they have their lives to live and we are but a small part of it.  But they wake us up again to deep, connective love, and we feel the joy of it in every cell of our bodies.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's the Big Game today and it's raining and storming.  I read yesterday the reasons why the stadium is no longer filled on the day, but the newspaper article neglected to mention all the new information on concussions, the business of football versus the joy of the game, the injuries inflicted and the feeling that school rivalries are archaic.  The elephants in the room, and there are a herd of them, remain silent in the sports pages.  This year, there is also the pall after the election, which has created such uncertainty that our fears rush in to grab and shake us.  I liked to read about some sports, mostly baseball, but also anything about my alma mater.  My father raised my brother and I as sports fans, and we saw many games.  My brother was quite an athlete, and so we saw those as well.  And I did love seeing the Cubs win the World Series.  But the constant threat of moving, the trading of players so the roster seems strange and new each year, the sheer greed of the schools and owners is depressing.  It's better to watch little kids run around in magnet ball (soccer) than see what even that sport has become for grownups.  If everything in our culture is all about the bottom line then passion and character and devotion go out the window.  It's looking a lot like that window is closed tight.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I were discussing this morning how we knew and were told nothing when we had our babies.  Now perhaps the doctors tell too much.  We both decided we were glad we were kept in the dark.  It seems as if doctors place a huge burden on the pregnant moms to eat right, take so many safety precautions, and the upshot is they worry their heads off about the possibilities.  My daughter received some assurances yesterday because they offered her the option of having another ultrasound and checked the baby again and all looked well.  Bless her heart.  She wants her baby out safe and sound.  It will be soon, the I know very well how the waiting feels. 
How informed to we want to be?  What is right speech for doctors?  It must be a balance, a delicate one, and reassuring without promises.  I feel grateful to all the medical people who walk these tightropes every day, and to the mothers who love their babies before they see them.  They are advocating for their children even in the womb.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A friend emailed me yesterday about ways to connect with people who voted differently than we did and possibly meeting to go to the midwest to dialogue and hear what they have to say.   I smiled, because she's a great organizer and I've been wanting to DO SOMETHING.  I have a lot of relatives I could visit, and they could put me in touch with people in their churches and clubs.  We don't want to turn away, we want to understand better.  Taking an action feels better to me than moaning and groaning.  I LIKE people, and I get along with lots of different people, possibly due to moving around the country a lot, and also because my people come from the midwest and I love them.  So this idea is just the ticket for me.  I had an immediate surge of gratitude towards my friend.  I don't know what will develop, but it's a positive direction, and that's good enough for me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our daughter is feeling the pressure of people's comments, opinions and worries around her pregnancy.  Some of her friends are pushing for natural childbirth and others feel she ought to be doing this or that.  She's clearly disturbed by it, but holding her own.  These people don't intend to practice wrong speech, but they are not practicing careful speech.  She doesn't need any stress.  She's worried herself about how labor will be and if the baby will be healthy, and talking at her doesn't help.  It's pretty universal that people stick their noses in other people's business, especially emotionally vulnerable pregnant women.  I remember all the "advice" I got, and how it only made me feel not up to the task.  Our daughter is strong, and she will weather this.  She's going through the hugest transition there is, and her heart is about to fall in love with her baby, and her world turn upside down.  She doesn't need anyone telling her this, she FEELS it.  But it sure would be nice if people around her were gentle and without opinions.  Or kept them to themselves.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Transitions are hard.  I've watched my son and daughter-in-law adjust to having a baby, and though he is their greatest joy, it has been difficult.  Now the whole country is transitioning to a new administration and the shock of the new, and our daughter is about to give birth and have her and our son-in-law's lives topsy turvy.  Transitions stun us.  The ground beneath our feet feels shaky.  Our rhythms are disrupted.  Change is the only constant, yet we seem to naturally resist.  We want to hold on to what is "known".  Yet from change we receive blessings like these two little grandsons:  the one year old and the about to be born baby.  Those of us on the outskirts of these big upheavals need to support the ones most affected.  In flux is a state that rightly is the constant.  Everything is changing, transforming, reshaping, surprising.  Many of us were surprised by the election, but when we look at history, we see the arc.  Movements of people, from the Middle East to Europe, from Mexico and Central America to here, distrupt, even as this migration is the history of humankind.  Everything is shifting, and we need to face our fear and know that we counter these disruptions by compassion, empathy and love.  Reach out and embrace the new and unfamiliar, and see what it has to teach us about our capacity to open and learn and become active and awake in the midst of it all.  It can be a gift, if we let it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

You can write all the children's books you want about famous women and how girls can be whatever they want to be, but right here in the real world our country can't elect a woman President, these little girls' mommies and daddies are struggling with day care, unequal pay, the lion's share of the responsibility for children still falling on women, and the fact that the poor are mostly women and children struggling to feed themselves without enough flexibility, vacation, and maternity leave.  These kids see their mothers and grandmothers and aunts are penalized by being a female, and that attention is mainly given to women who agree to be sex objects.  These girls are going to find themselves pressured and targeted by bullies, then by aggressive male sexual pressures.  They are going to go off to college hopeful, and find themselves raped at a party by people they thought were friends in places they thought were safe.  And the nuclear families they participate in become terror cages with one in four of them being battered. 
I'm not exaggerating.  I worked in safehouses for twelve years.  This country, this world, turns away from abuse of women.  And it begins with speech.  Don't let anyone berate a woman in your presence.  Object when a little girl is sexualized.  Help a battered woman and her children get to safety and get their new lives started.  Forget Madame Curie.  Cultivate some real live women who are change makers right here and now.  Support them, join them.  Bring your children and grandchildren (male and female) to events where women are the speakers or the performers or the readers of their own writing.  Do something. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A few days ago I finished reading "The Snow Child", a novel set in Alaska and playing with an old fairy tale about a snow child who comes to life, kind of like Pinnochio.  The novel is about loss and healing and reads like a prose poem.  My friend recommended it to me.  The wilderness of Alaska becomes a character in the book, and sadness and joy are intermixed, as well as magical realism.  For anyone who has grieved the loss of someone they loved, it is revealing and soothing.  But it also is working for me right now in grieving for the election results, and to face the fear that this brings to many of us.  I, personally am grieving that I will not live to see a woman U.S. President, and my granddaughters still live in a world where women are not valued equally.  There was a hurdle ready to be jumped over, and the runner crashed and fell.  Someone else, another time, will have to struggle again and it won't be soon.  This lesson is a cautionary tale about reaching too high.  And Michelle Obama's refrain of when they go low we go high, though the morally correct stance, ends with the low winning this time around.  I'm not giving up, and I will become more active politically because of this week, but the idea that a lot of people in this country, unlike any other Westernized nation, don't believe in women in the highest offices, is a body blow, like the ERA not passing.  But we've absorbed the blows before and we will learn from this.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I am discombobulated for sure.  I forgot a lunch date with a friend, forgot to drop off something at another friend's house, and didn't notice my cell phone wasn't working.  I'm stunned by the election, stunned that my daughter is about to give birth, stunned that I'm old, stunned that I have so much to do for the holidays.  I'll snap out of it.  I did a bunch of errands that were loose ends this morning, including finally filling the gas tank in my car.  Today I see the friend I missed yesterday, and also my therapist, who hopefully will help me get my head screwed on straight.  It certainly feels misaligned right now.  Tonight my husband and I go to see a dumb movie, so that should get me back in my culture and time.  Respecting disorientation is essential.  Shocks to the body and mind cannot be ignored or denied.  I'm going to be careful with myself and others until I again feel more myself.  Whatever that means!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As I was walking the dogs this morning I was humming "Suzanne", Leonard Cohen's song, which I consider sad but beautiful.  I'm glad there was a huge voter turnout and sad personally because the person didn't win I voted for.  She sent a generous, kind heartfelt email to all of us who supported her:  the epitome of right speech.  But mostly this campaign has been chock a block full of wrong speech.  By everyone, all the time.  We're all tired of it.  I don't know if this campaign will cause a shift toward or away from civility, but I hope all the old tricks will no longer work.  Let's try to somehow get back to policies and principles.  Let's expect morals and character to be prerequisites to leadership.  And maybe I'm just going to be writing a whole lot of letters to the editors.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Right speech is definitely voting, no matter who you vote for.  Voting protects our democracy, and it is our basic right and responsibility.  Where I live the ballot is long and heavy, but what better effort than to protect our ability to guide our government and express our beliefs?  My husband mailed his ballot a week ago, but I still like trudging up the hill, encountering friends and neighbors, and getting the sticker after.  I'm proud of myself.  The campaign has been ugly and awful, and much has been said that shouldn't have been uttered, but now it's our chance to speak.  And what we say means more than all the sound bites ever devised.  When we speak, the country listens.  I hope and pray there is a large turnout, and those who have this privilege use it.  You are not powerless if you take action.  It may not go your or my way, but your vote is counted and it speaks.  And everything on the ballot impacts you.  Everything. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah.  There are so many examples of wrong speech in this election that I bend under the weight of them.  I can only hope right speech will squeeze in and calm the environment post election.  The predictions are that the incivility will continue unabated, but everyone I know is exhausted and disgusted and maybe, just maybe, we've had enough of letting our inner tantrum child out for the year.  Turning off and tuning out may be appropriate later this week.  I saw in the newspaper that there was a huge surge in people going to the movies this weekend.  Well, hello.  Anything to escape the nightmare of the campaign.  I'd have gone as well, but I was busy reading a legal thriller.  My own form of escape.  I'm hoping the idea of upcoming Thanksgiving gets us in gratitude mode, and reminds us of the bounty and resources we are so blessed with.  For once, I'm thinking:  watch football, get out your aggression that way.  Just stay away from shutting down the government.  We actually need it, if you think about it.  Come on people, come back to earth.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent the morning and midday with my foster granddaughter, and I felt I had been accommodating because originally we were scheduled for the Sunday before, but two things came up for her and I said lets not pack in too much.  So her mother said she had nothing on the following Saturday, yesterday, and I agreed to switch.  But Friday in the evening I got an email that they were taking her to her cousin's water polo game, so suddenly another squeeze.  I texted back that the movie was at 9:55 and we were having lunch after.  The mother said no problem.  But the movie was longer than I expected, my granddaughter wanted to quickly get a gift at a store right there, we had slow service at the cafe, and the traffic, because it was Saturday, was horrible.  I was anxious, and when we pulled up, her mother got out of their car and said they were late and had missed the start of the game, said nothing to me, but was clearly angry.  This is after eleven years of being on time on my end, though they have been late and kept me waiting a few times.  I'm offended.  As long as I was picking her up from a short day of school I served a purpose, but now that I've asked to be relieved of that duty, I'm in the way.
I said nothing.  But I will not promise to get her back again on a tight schedule on time.  She lives a freeway away from me and we are usually going a few miles in the other direction.  I am not going to stress myself out because they have the usual harried schedule of events.  I don't feel valued or appreciated except by my granddaughter.  That is why I hang in there for her sake.  I'm hoping some kind of apology is forthcoming, but if that does not happen, I am going to be careful to clearly state that I can't promise to be on the dot.  I did have my granddaughter call and say we were running late, due to traffic and taking longer at the cafe.  Rushing would have been dangerous, and I am a careful driver, especially now that my granddaughter sits in the front passenger seat.  I want no sudden stops or jerky movements. 
We'll see how this plays out.  I'm going to correct my communication to include no promises.  The tension is too much, and my granddaughter felt it more than I did. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We watched the World Series last night, and after the whole crazy five hours was over I was impressed with the graciousness of the Cubs players responses.  They gave credit to Cleveland, and weren't pointing number one fingers and puffing out their chests.  They seemed blown away, and humbled, and so so grateful.  I like that in a team.  They looked so young to me, just boys, most of them, and there was a sense that no one stood out and carried the team on his shoulders, rather, it took every one of them to win this, and there was no stand out superstar whom the team depended on.  That meant it was up to each of them.  No hiding, no invisibility, it took a village and they knew it.  They kept plugging away, plugging away, and didn't give up when Cleveland tied them and surged ahead.  Just presence, one pitch at a time, one catch at a time, and then it was over.  They looked surprised, because they were in the groove of the present, and that rhythm saw them through. 
I'd like to keep that game in my mind, and emulate them in my own day to day existence.  Just do what I'm supposed to do minute by minute, and not worry about the rest.  It's a good way to live.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The day before yesterday a friend from the Midwest called and said she'd had a difficult few months and several friends died or were very sick and her mother was deteriorating rapidly.  Yesterday my best friend called and a woman in her apartment complex had died.  Just gone to sleep, and though her husband called 911 and she was rushed in the ambulance, she died soon after arriving there.  And yesterday I was talking to my friend about her CT scan and whether her cancer drug was still working.  Another friend just returned last night from visiting her mother who, in her nineties, is failing rapidly.  This is hard stuff to talk about, and describing it hardly does justice to the complex of emotions these losses arouse in us.  We are of an age that mortality looms.  And this being Fall, and the harbinger of holidays, family memories, and in my case anniversary of family deaths:  my mother's and father's, my brothers and dear friends, a certain gloominess easily descends on me. 
Now add the election, world conflicts, climate change, and even flu shots.  The world seems sick, and in need of a nice cup of chicken soup and and a good book.  But how to administer the medicine?  Compassion must be our response.  First toward ourselves and then all others.  I feel a lot of compassion for trees right now.  I live in a drought area and I see them dying off, being cut down.  Today I will concentrate on the trees. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The political news is distressing, yes, but as I was walking the dogs I ran into my neighbor outside of her house taking down Halloween decorations.  She has lung cancer and goes today for a CT scan to see if the drug that is keeping her alive is still working.  Normally, after a year, it ceases being effective.  So that put things in perspective.  She's so strong and resilient and upbeat, but she doesn't lie or minimize her situation.  She's a hero.  I immediately realized how my prayers should be addressed.  I hope she's the exception, and the drug is doing its thing.  I hope she continues to have quality of life and strength and all the support she wants and needs.  Yet she's also on her path alone, and I feel that reality strongly.  In the midst of news headlines swirling around us are ordinary people struggling to survive and find the courage to make life and death decisions, and there are people who have had those decisions taken out of their hands, which is even worse.  May they find peace and love surrounding them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Strange days.  It's almost as if we need aliens to invade us so we can remember we all are on the same small planet.  We are tearing each other apart, endangering plants and animals, our waterways and our air, and we can't seem to find a common purpose.  Everyone has the delusion they are inhabiting their own bit of space that must reflect their and only their concerns.  We see old movies and the way most people tried to pull together not apart, but the health of the planet is not somehow concerning enough to set aside differences.  Our modeling is all divisiveness and refusal to compromise.  There is a lot of "otherness" instead of "we are all in this together".  It's as if a pall is over people that has blinded them to higher purpose or future concerns.  I hope something shifts.  I pray for the world to see how deeply interconnected we are, and the health of one affects the health of all.  That is what globalization ought to mean.  Instead, it is used as a capitalistic term for greed and exploitation.  Our planet is in danger.  We don't really need aliens to see the truth, and it seems we have become the aliens.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our younger son's partner just had a birthday and last night the family went out for dinner to celebrate.  We'd gotten her books on interior design as a gift, and she and I got to talking about how much the subject interested us.  I felt so happy to have this in common, and told her my mother was also deeply fascinated and skilled at interior design.  I said I liked exotic interiors, as in India, Morocco or Spain and Mexico.  I showed her a book I'd just purchased about houses in Mexico.  She prefers modern design, and I said that appeals to me as well.  Then I asked her if she was interested in the idea of home and space - the philosophy of it, as I had some books on that as well, and she said she was.  I have one friend who also likes to talk about the psychology and spirituality of our rooms and personal spaces.  So it was great news that my son's partner likes this subject as well.  I felt as if a window had opened to deepening our relationship, and I look forward to pursuing our conversation further.  I felt connected to her in a new way.  Speech can do that.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My grandson called me grandma two times yesterday and was very excited to see me.  Is there anything better?  I kind of doubt it.  He was so happy all day and played and listened to me reading and tried to reach the doorknob in his room, take off the electrical outlet guards and climb on top of his toy chest to learn to fly.  He's an adorable wrecking ball.  He's very interested in how things work.  He wants to turn the plug in the bathtub, can press his musical toys buttons and keep them going, use his hammer accurately on his wood peg bench, turn on and off the light switch, and generally operate skillfully in his world.  And its clearly a world of wonder and magic and joy.  Looking at everything through his eyes is a precious gift, and I don't take it for granted.  I'm glad that as I'm getting older, I see things as if I were beginning again, and it is all new and fresh and vibrant.  This grandparent thing is terrific.  I've done it twice and now I'll be doing it a third time very soon.  The world is simple and beautiful and breaks your heart with its ability to make your heart soar and dip.  Gratitude is the only response.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just had a nice brisk walk with a friend.  We talked about her trip to Mexico City, and it brought back memories of our trip years ago.  We arrived at our hotel and our older two kids burst into tears because no one was speaking English.  It scared them.  That dip into another culture is terrifying and exhilerating, and not being able to communicate is a shock.  They grew up to become world travelers with skills in several languages, so it did them no permanent harm.  But it's true the traveler must let go of any delusion of being in control, and that experience can be mind bending.  We talked about the traffic, and how it appears to be utter chaos, but somehow you get where you are going (that is if you have a driver).  Being open allows people to help you and interact with you.  If you get cheated a little, oh, well.  My friend had several instances where kind acts by locals cheered her greatly.  And the city is magnificent.  Then she and her husband saw Teotijacan.  The ancient metropolis.  Foreign is good, foreign is eye opening and world expanding and yes, it comes with a different language.  But we all learn to navigate our way.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a brief talk with my eye doctor today about sleep deprivation and how he has to go slow and be careful when he has an emergency at two am.  He knows he's not at his sharpest and neither are his assistants.  I said my friend was thinking of retiring from being an OB because the erratic and late hours are so difficult as she ages.  It's not healthy.  My eye doctor is young but he is aware of the humanity of doctors and doesn't pretend to be invulnerable.  Every time I have an appointment with him I appreciate his honesty and engagement with his patients even more.  He humanizes our interactions and is open and says real opinions and relates his experiences. It's not a one way street.   It makes a huge difference to me.  I feel met and seen.  Now that is a doctor to appreciate.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I wrote an editorial last week about gun safety, and I keep forgetting to see if it got in my local paper.  It was definitely a cathartic act to write and send it.  I talked about my grandchildren, and safety in schools and public places.  But I remember when we lived in Colorado, being so surprised when my kids would play at a friend's house, and when I came to pick him or her up, there was a rifle rack in the front hall or bows and arrows on the carpet.  I was terrified.  And no parent ever thought to let me know that they kept guns in their house, or reassure me that they were locked away.  It was like having Cheerios in the cupboard, ordinary.  Of course I don't know here who has a gun and if it's safely locked away, but I don't have children at home any longer, so I worry about the culture more than the neighbors.  I'm sure my brother had guns because he wanted to defend himself, but they were right there, available, when he had a discouraging thought about his health.  Easily accessible, and rather than call someone, he ended it all in the few seconds it took him to lift the handgun and fire.  Guns aren't safe.  They weren't invented for safety.  They were invented to kill.  I hope voters consider the safety of having no checks and balances for gun owners, and no vetting of those who should not be able to buy them.  Even one gun less is a life possibly saved. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw an interesting movie with friends last night:  "Denial".  It's a true story about a Holocaust denier in England who sued an American university professor for libel, because she said in a published book that he was a liar.  And in England, you have to prove that the accuser has lied, rather than the burden of proof rest on him.  His wrong speech was protected, and it had to be proved that his statements were deliberate lies:  if he believed them, then he was innocent and she guilty.  It was fascinating on screen and so relevant to the current election, where almost everything fact checked that the one candidate says is false.  Yet he is allowed to have his say, even if it is inaccurate or dead wrong.  Free speech is something we pride ourselves on, but when we get to the borders of free speech or incitement to violence, everything is blurry, and no one wants to end up censoring where it is not necessary.  Thus we have the quandry of the democratic.  We can choose not to listen, but the environment is poisoned and sometimes dangerous to those who do. 
I really believe this film is educational.  It reminds us of who we are and how hard it is to stand by what we believe, when it requires us to stand silent while the other speaks.  We must listen, to some extent, because free speech is about hearing the other side, the ideas and opinions that repel us, the fighting for their right to have different opinions.  We're stronger when we can do this.  I hope we show our strength now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday we visited our grandson and took him on two long strolls.  His house is being painted and his father was dealing with the painters.  We had many a conversation with him.  His intonation and delivery are perfect; and you feel you can almost but not quite catch the words.  He's intense about it.  He clearly is telling us something, but what?  I look forward to his gathering more words in his arsenal and my understanding him better.  He has up and down pat, open and close and balloon and ball and cat and dog and mama and daddy.  And he can repeat many more words after us.  I believe the important thing right now is our listening.  Taking him seriously, and giving him an opportunity to practice communication.  We're open ears, and his perfect audience.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I had five hours walking and talking and lunching with a friend.  We are "swim buddies" in our Buddhist practice, and when we relate our adventures in life, we come from the same intentions.  We've known each other now over eighteen years, and have supported each other through rough times and doubts and illnesses.  A mutual friend died recently, and she related the details to me.  We don't pretend anything together.  We can go from sad and anxious to joyous and hopeful.  We are secure in our devotion to this precious life, whatever it brings.  And we see life lessons in our experiences, no matter how seemingly insignifigant.  I feel recharged after being with her.  We had deep discussions and ecstasies over bars of soap.   I would say we are both enthusiasts, though she's inclined to introversion and I to extroversion.  Perhaps we balance each other.  She's a few years ahead of me in age, and I feel she provides me with previews of coming attractions or distractions.  We are bonded over having our only siblings, brothers, die close in time.  I treasure this friendship, as so many others, because of it's uniqueness and transparency.  She's an anchor to my bobbing boat.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night my husband and I watched the last part of an old movie on Turner Classics with Bette Davis and Olivia de Haviland.  Afterward, my husband suggested we watch a movie we owned, "Heartbreak Ridge" by and starring Clint Eastwood.  Usually I think these ancient films of his are campy, but this time, after a few minutes of abusive language (Clint is an army sargent and nasty with everyone including his recruits) we stopped the film.  Not only did we stop it, we put it in our trash.  We'd only watched the film once before, but after all the hullabaloo with Trump, we were newly sensitized.  My husband said people in that situation didn't talk that way, and I felt that maybe really they did, but I didn't need to hear it even if it was accurate.  In that sense, the Trump mess has brought to everyone's consciousness a new awareness of the abuse of some speech and what the ramifications of such speech are. 
I thought of "Straight Outta Compton" and the two episodes of the Wire I watched with my son and daughter-in-law, which have offensive language, but seem to be a window into a culture of drugs and hopelessness in which certain young black boys are trapped.  The language is painful to hear, but speaks of the claustrophobia and suffering underneath that must be covered up with bravado in order to survive.  Maybe the same argument could be made for Heartbreak, but it isn't a good movie, and so the intentions are unclear and the message garbled.  I don't listen to most rap music, but I understand that it's not meant for me anyway, it is a means of expressing anger and frustration. 
But Trump is not making a movie or music, he is spewing.  And that I need not witness.  But maybe his presence has gotten people to think twice about what they say and what they listen to.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night a friend in my writing group gave me a ride home after it was over.  She said something interesting:  "I value the writing in the group but I treasure the people in the group as much or more".  I replied that we had all known each other since our kids were tiny, which is thirty years or more.  And I noted that we really got each others history.  Three women in the group are widows, and we knew and loved their husbands and now witness their single life and adjustments as well as lingering loss and grief.  We've witnessed each others becoming grandparents.  I've lost a sibling.  We've all lost both parents since we first met each other.  There is a trust that has been built brick by brick.  We are not a support group yet of course we are.  Not just for our writing struggles, but for our lives.  And whenever there is a crisis we drop the writing talk and open the discussion for whomever needs listeners and a safe place to express herself.  My friend felt all of this last night, and I have the benefit of her sharing to make me more aware of the treasure of this group, these women, my sisters in arms.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a dream last night about my father, who has been dead over thirty years.  Our whole family was vacationing in a tropical place, and my father was across from me and my younger son.  He smiled but didn't say anything.  I woke up grateful for a "visit".  Of course he didn't say anything:  the dream was a representation of his love and support.  Today I finally passed by driving test, and I wanted him with me in spirit.  So my mind concocted the dream I needed to see me through.  I wore my mother's bracelet and my mala beads as well, just to have all the strength I felt I needed for the test.  I called up my parents and spiritual teachers to not do something for me, but for me to find the strength in myself to do this test yet again and not give up. 
Why were words unnecessary?  Because it's about the heart.  I needed a lion heart today, to be fierce and focused.  And love is beyond words anyway.  Last night when I couldn't sleep.  I kept saying:  breathe in for strength, breathe out the self doubt.  I was the little engine who's mantra was "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can", a book I bought my grandson for his birthday.  I had to focus not on what the tester might think of me, but what I believe of myself.  I needed to get beyond the embarrassment, intimacy and sense of being judged to my own state of mind.  It was not easy.  I am a people pleaser by nature.  I had to be my own protector, as the Buddha has said.  I watched my mind last night dredge up failures and ancient wounds and all kinds of reasons why I couldn't do this test.  And then I had to let all that distraction go and free fall into my own arms.  I need to do this more often, but not the driving test, no, not that!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to dinner at a friend's house last night and had a lively discussion of the looming election.  Everyone but me watched the debates and reads online.  I didn't feel tempted to follow their examples, because I have a different view of managing my stress level, and because I believe my checks are more helpful than anything else I'm willing to do.  I'm not of the stuff that wants to persuade others by my verbal acuity.  I want to somehow respect and understand others' points of view, even if I believe they are not seeing things through a wide enough lens.  I can easily put myself in most people's places, and yes, there are some people I don't want to even try to see things through their eyes.  I am not a misogynistic male and as a female have an inability to see why I should be hated as a gender.  Everyone had a mother. 
But I felt confirmed as the evening went on that for me, and only for me, wrong speech is to be avoided by my little old ears as much as possible.  I'm a writer and I have a vivid imagination.  I don't need to hear locker room talk or racist slurs or class berating.  I'll keep as much as I am able a brain not filled with such junk.  I don't enjoy the buzz up or the indignation or the depression that ensues.  Call me fragile, that's okay, I get to monitor what input goes in.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a marathon phone conversation with my friend last night.  We talked babies and caught up.  I love hearing about her care of her granddaughter who is a week older than my grandson.  I also like hearing the truth about the ups and downs of our relations with our kids around their kids.  Finally people are opening up about the experience, and like any other, it is complicated.  I just read an interesting book by Alison Gopnik called "The Carpenter and the Gardener", about her observations as a grandparent about the parenting stresses on people today.  She makes a distinction between the carpenter who thinks he/she is building a person and the gardener tending a garden but with respect for how it grows and the surprises a garden brings.  When people ask me about parenting I usually say think of the the baby as coming from another planet, then ask, "What did I get?  Who is this little being?"  Our children are not clones of us, and part of the joy is seeing who they become and how they are different from us.  I have four kids and they couldn't be more different.  Yes, there are threads, but in the same environment they've turned out so uniquely.  I don't "know" them better than anyone, in fact, they surprise me still.  When I had my first child I read him books I liked, and then books he gravitated towards - mythology and mysteries.  A few of those books worked for the second child, but she loved books about horses.  Then the third loved science and sci fy, then the forth wanted fairy tales and Roahl Dahl.  Yes, they all read some of the same books, especially as toddlers, but soon after they demanded what interested them, not me and not their siblings.  They were their own persons right from the get go.  Molding a child is impossible and disrespectful to who that child is.  They aren't here to fulfill our unmet dreams.  They're here to show us the wonder of development and the joy of diversity.  We learn from them.  I've read a lot of books I never would have left to my own devices, and encountered new worlds through them.  Who's molding who?!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was listening to the radio as I drove to the post office this morning, and John Cleese (of Monty Python fame) was discussing humor and what makes us laugh.  He mentioned that he supposed the Buddhists had a point in that they don't get too rigid and attached to beliefs and opinions.  Laughter usually requires a fluidity and ability to see the fool in oneself.  And, when I think about it, people who laugh more around me tend to not be so serious about themselves and their lives.  They figure they are fallible and human, and admitting mistakes and mess ups just makes them one of the crowd.  We laugh at ourselves because the universe has a lot of surprise, irony and joy, yes joy.  Losing laughter is indeed a serious sign of taking oneself too seriously.  I was looking at videos of my grandson that my son sent me, and there is one where he bursts into tears because he can't reach into the cake right after the candle is blown out.  We quickly got him in his bib and high chair and he could dig in and ended up with cake all over his head.  But we laughed when he cried because we saw ourselves:  wanting it NOW.  Another video shows him in ecstasies over balloons and his joy makes me laugh because I recognize it and connect immediately with my own experiences of joy.  Laughter makes us human.  A baby can recognize something amusing at a few months old.  He's in on the joke.  May he never lose that ability.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There was an article in the newspaper this morning about how this election is bad for our mental health, and causes our brains to short circuit the normal pathways and respond in ways from the days of deep forests and dangerous animals.  I was somewhat gratified, as I again did not watch the debate, and dilligently read Bruce Springsteen's autobiography instead.  He does an excellent job of describing how he came up with lyrics and what part events in his life played in them.  Afterward, my husband, who watched the debate, was restless all night and caused my sleep to be restless as well.  This election is bad for the brain.  He's only trying to be a good citizen, and look how he's rewarded.  Nightmares.
Most people cannot stop themselves from listening to wrong speech, and they don't see the effect on themselves.  It's seductive and exciting, until it isn't.  How many people will be turned off exercising their right to vote because they attempted to be informed and prepared?  How ironic!  They need to protect themselves and calm their minds, or the nightmare will go on and on.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Boy is this election an example of wrong speech.  Just reading the paper or listening to the radio subjects you to toxic speech.  I avoid the television like the plague, but still, it's in the air.  Yesterday we were driving up for our grandson's birthday and after we heard some awful bit of news I began singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" from Oklahoma, just to clear the air.  Because it was a beautiful morning and I did not want it polluted with election ugliness.  My friend said on the phone this morning that one of the papers where she lives had a calendar with big Xs marking how many days we have left of this horror.  It's like I'm in the middle of a bad dream and can't wake up.  My friend's seven year old granddaughter asked about "that man saying bad things about girls".  Wow!  Even children can't escape the toxicity.
I suggest we all sing at the top of our lungs and drown out the rhetoric that is filled with a Pandora's Box of bad thoughts and feelings.  Otherwise, we'll all be crushed by wrong speech, or even worse, start spouting it ourselves.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today was our grandson's birthday and he had a good time.  He was exhausted by mid-afternoon, but still sweet.  He was thrilled by the balloons, and loved a stuffed rabbit and hedgehog probably the best.  He gave them both many kisses.  But he was game for playing with everything, and ate a huge lunch and all of his cake, which ended up in his hair and eyes.  Enthusiastic he was!  His favorite word is ball and he likes balloon as well.  And like a ball or balloon he flies high and bounces and is exuberant about his life.  How lucky we are to have him close by.  I miss my granddaughter up north so much, but this time the grandchild is closer and in a month we'll have an even closer grandson.   I am truly blessed!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I read a review in the New York Times of an art show at the Guggenheim in Manhattan.  Accompanied by many photos of paintings in the show, Hollander Cotter described succinctly and beautifully the power and presence of Agnes Martin's paintings.  Reading it, I felt she was expressing the inexpressible.  She offered words for me to articulate my passion for Martin's work.  Right speech as art criticism honors the artist and work and also the viewer.  And if the language is not true to the work, then silence in viewing is better:  let the viewer feel and appreciate what she can.  There is so much respect in this article that it elevates the discussion.  And not because the art critic has been blinded by shock and awe, but because she sees clearly all the elements of a complex life and product.  And best of all, her words make me want to get on a plane and see the show, today!  An artist is indeed fortunate when the critic is so scrupulous and delicate, yet not fancy or trendy or market oriented.  Get the viewer to the art and guide gently so the work can be experienced not just in the head but in the heart and in the mystery of the interaction of the two.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm getting better at not standing on my head to return phone calls immediately.  I wait, sometimes several days, until I feel a willingness instead of a begrudging irritability.  And so far - news flash - nothing has been harmed by the wait.  Where this compulsive impulse of mine to please everyone, even people I'm not close to and don't honestly care about, comes from is mysterious.  I assume it's part of the new girl at a new school syndrome.  Loneliness was a threat and I wanted, as all kids do, to belong.  Underneath may be the residue of low self worth, lack of confidence, and a determination to HAVE FRIENDS.  But this is a dress I outgrew long ago, and my friends are the kind that hang in there through thick and thin, so it's old patterning that gets in my way now.
And this is about boundary setting.  I have a good friend who calls at dinnertime.  My husband and I joke about it.  And I either pick up when I'm cooking, or scramble to call right after we eat.  Her voice often sounds upset.  Yet when I call back it's not important.  It only took  me a few years to realize that she never cooks, her husband does, so she's free at a time I'm frantic with cauldrons bubbling in my kitchen.  Oh.  She's relaxing before dinner is served.  It's a good time for her, and a terrible time for me.  So now that I have realized this, I don't pick up the phone then, and don't rush afterward either.  I watch a dumb movie with my husband and call back "late".  No problemo.  She's up, I'm up, and it has up until now been something that can wait.  In fact, wouldn't she leave a message that it's urgent if it was?  Yes.  That's logical.  And it only took several years for me to figure that out.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw the opera Don Pasquale last night.  It's a trifle as far as the story goes:  uncle refuses nephew's request to marry his true love.  His friend tricks the uncle into "marrying" the beloved, and she makes his life so hellish that when he is told she is his nephew's love and he isn't legally married, he gives his blessing and learns his lesson:  old men should not think of marrying, they should leave it to the young.  Everyone was having so much fun on stage, and the music and voices were so divine, that the confection stayed afloat.  Sometimes the message just doesn't matter, and after all, this was written in 1843.  Now Trump can keep marrying beauty queens until he's 100, no questions asked.
Interestingly, the tenor/nephew is black.  In the notes he says he's had trouble convincing people of his rightness for romantic roles, but the proof is in the production.  Anyone with such a voice (and acting ability) would be swooned over by the totality of the female audience.  He was delightful, and totally persuasive.  His comedic chops are firmly established by this role as well.  And also in the notes, he mentions he has an autistic 3 year old son, and hopes to do more outreach and volunteering on behalf of research into the disability.  He also said he couldn't do anything about being black or short but decided he could stop being round, so he went on a diet and got slim.  Such transparency is amazing and touching.  What an enlightened being he seems to be for one so young.  His voice is lovely both musically and morally.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our writing group did a quick write last night but instead of having 3 objects to choose from to riff off of, I played a song from Peter Gabriel, actually written by Magnetic Fields:  "The Book of Love".  We all wrote really interesting pieces, and each went off in an entirely different lines of thought.  We discussed it after and noticed that our feelings had lead us because we had a piece of music more than with the objects.  The music, even though nobody had heard it before but me, pulled us from the heart instead of the head.  It was a great experiment, and reminds me that music provides easy access to the emotions.  It is called the universal language, and, at least in our little group, provided a fluidity that was deep and wide.
Next time we are going to listen to music at home and write while we listen and see what comes up.  With the heartstrings plucked, something lovely may ensue.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Everyone seemed so happy and delighted for our daughter at the baby shower.  Kind words are treasured at such high moments.  Our grandson was the star of the show, saying ball and balloon and waving and grinning at everyone.  His joy at the balloons said it all.  What a delight our daughter and son-in-law have in store for themselves.  Seeing all the young mothers was so sweet, and the diversity of ages:  from 87 to 4 months, was a wonder.  When we demonstrate our happiness at others good fortune, we expand our consciousness and the circle of love.  I felt it happen yesterday.    I'm sure our daughter did as well.  Shower of love indeed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my daughter's baby shower, and it's supposed to rain, so there you have it.  I'm looking forward to seeing friends and my daughter's friends and also my older daughter who is here for the event.  Sharing joy is the most pleasurable experience, and I look forward to it.  I'm evidently in a stage of my life where there are these big passage marking events:  weddings, baby showers, births, grandchildren entering schools, piano recitals, drawing contests with prizes.  There is  celebration continnum going on.  I'm a witness and a participant, but it will go on beyond my life and that is comforting and hopeful.
My friends are on this train ride as well; some of them further along and some just beginning the grandparent part.  I love these stops at the station, the view from the windows, the passengers getting on and changing.  The movement feels forward but may be cyclical.  It doesn't matter.  It's the togetherness that matters.  The human experience:  shared.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was our dogs' twelfth birthdays.  We naturally sang "Happy Birthday" to them, and after dinner, we all watched "Longmire" and ate popcorn.  They were in heaven, because popcorn was raining from the sky or at least above their heads.  They also liked the Longmire episode, followed by an episode of "Death in Paradise".  Who doesn't like the island life?  Well, okay, they've never been to the Carribean, but then, neither have we.  It doesn't stop us from dreaming.  And both detectives always get their man, or woman, as the case may be.  The dogs express their pleasure in oblique ways.  The other night we didn't go upstairs after dinner, and the next night our female dog led our male dog up the stairs before us, as if to say:  come on, get with the program, are you forgetting our routine?
I don't actually know if they knew it was their birthdays, but they probably guessed something was off.  All that singing and more popcorn than they'd ever consumed in their lives.  They may have been confused, but it was a happy confusion, and I bet their dreams were golden.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my friend took me to Rosie the Riverter National Monument and we saw two films about the Richmond Shipyards during World War II and then a park ranger, Betty Reed Salosky spoke.  She was amazing.  It was as inspiring as hearing Shirley Chishom all those years ago.  She is 95, and just returned from 10 days in Washington, D.C., celebrating the opening of the African American Museum on the Mall.  She worked in a segregated factory in Richmond as a 20 year old, as part of the war effort.  Her grandmother was a slave.  She has seen so much history, and is so wise with such perspective.  I'll never forget her speak.  Living history or oral history is so much the best.  World War II was the beginning of the civil rights movement that gained momentum in the sixties, and the gradual integration and acceptance of women, blacks, and other races and ethnicities in the shipyards was a powerful force for change.  I wish every American could hear Betty speak and I can't imagine a better time than before the election.  She's on YouTube, because she gave a talk last year at Google and they videoed it.  Introduce yourself to an amazing woman, and listen and learn.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night I had long talks with two best buds.  It sure beats any movie or book for me.  I see another friend today and tomorrow still another.  I also take my foster granddaughter out to dinner.  This weekend is our younger daughter's baby shower, so lots of joy to come.  My connective tissue to my friends needs strengthening occasionally, and this is one of those weeks.  Can I stand alone?  I never try to find out.  As a friend of mine says, I'm tribal.  With a lot of my biological family gone, I lean on my chosen family.  We're here for each other through big and small events and rites of passage.  I've been to my kids' graduations and weddings without one blood relative, but the room was full.  My kids count on my friends as honorary aunts and uncles.  So here's to  the families we chose to love and be loyal to and be there in the hard times and good ones.  The human family, as an old book would have it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I avoided the debate last night.  I'm done thinking about persuasion and reason.  This election is about polarization, and I'm not sure how that can be countered, except holding the media's feet to the fire and hoping for a calming down that doesn't seem forthcoming.  I did errands this morning and put up Halloween decorations - how appropriate!  This afternoon I will call a childhood friend and read a magazine and relax.  Last night I saw "The Free State of Jones", a remarkable movie starring Matthew McConnahey, and this true story inspires and yet illuminates the dark history after the Civil War, and the long struggle for freedom that is still being waged.  Again, it seems rational that the poor would not trust the rich, yet in the South the poor blamed African Americans for the war and their dire circumstances, when it was the Confederate Army taking away their food and means of surviving.  I wish everyone could see this film, but I doubt many did or will.  Did you know their was an independent country in Mississippi after the war for a few years?  Neither did I?  We're not a nation crazy about history, even our own.  Looking the Civil War in the eye might benefit us, but we stay in rigid stances from old prejudices and myths.  If we can't see our country clearly, we won't be able to avoid repeating past mistakes.  But that's a tall order, and I haven't much faith that many will make the effort to learn from our past.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I had a high old time catching up and discussing our family relationships this morning.  Her mother, who lives with her now, is visiting her sister across the country and asked my friend if she missed her.  Of course my friend said she did, and her mother, in her nineties, said when and how.  Now her mother has only been gone a week, but my friend said seeing her face, having dinner with her, talking with her.  But really, my friend is appreciating the break and enjoying it.  Right speech was answering the way her mother wished, rather than strictly honestly.  Her mother knows she must return and live again with her older daughter.  The younger daughter is not willing or able to have her.  But she wants her daughter to WANT her, instead of appreciating that she has a kind, safe home here and is so well looked after.  What's the harm?  Her mother doesn't need honesty.  Her mother wants a story.  Her mother wants her two daughters vying for her attention.  Her mother is wrenched about which coast to live on, and really has no choice, since she does not want to go into assisted living either place.  My friend understands all this and freely attempts to ease her mind.  But she's loving the break, naturally.  We're all funny in these ways.  We want you to tell the lie, knowing it is so, but adhering to the form of family relations.  Let's have the fairy tale, even if reality is not so bad.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's hot for us this weekend here, but today there is a breeze, and for those of us who weathered the firestorm years ago that breeze is unsettling.  Then, for me personally, there is the fact that today is the thirtieth anniversary of my father's death.  Yes, it gets easier, but it doesn't go away.  He would delight in so many things were he here:  his great grandchildren, how well his grandchildren have turned out, travel, golf, perhaps a little dog of his own again.  He definitely would have remarried, and we would have laughed together.  He became less judgemental as he got older, and he was more open to new ideas and speaking about his feelings.  He might have talked about his childhood, his parents, the war.  So much lost.  Of course by dying he has missed the death of his son.  The person who unintentionally broke his heart in a way no other could have.  I know for certain he never would have stopped loving any of us.  I aspire to some of his qualities and attempt to overcome others.  He was ultra competitive, and I've weeded that out of myself.  But his loyalty and devotion to family I carry on as best I can.
So there is a sadness in the air for me.  The fear of fire, the drought, the political climate, the abuse of our natural resources, the passing on of the generations.  I'm praying for healing and letting go and fighting for what's good in the world, all at the same time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling grateful that on the way back from visiting my grandson today I listened to an NPR program on the Normandy school district in Fergeson, Missouri.  A journalist from the New York Times did an investigative piece about the place were Michael Brown was shot and killed.  He had just graduated from high school.  What she discovered was a failed school district and a state that allowed segregation to persist up until sixteen years ago, and even now, encourages black kids to tolerate inadequate schools rather than transfer to schools where they stand a chance to learn.  I was in tears by the end, and listening to white parents' anger when finally the kids were allowed to be bused thirty miles to a decent, mostly white school sheds light on our current election tone and anger.  There is not even a pretense of caring for these kids.  It's heartbreaking.  They are trapped in schools that don't train or support them in any way.  And the state is fine with this.  If you thought this was solved in the fifties, think again.  People have come up with new and creative ways to exclude people of color from their world.  And they buy houses where they feel guaranteed the right to have privledge and advantage over the poorer people in society.  I feel ashamed.  I thought we were better than this.  I know, I live in a bubble.  But my bubble at least includes minorities and busing to integrate the schools.  My congressional representative is black.  I know how difficult it is to be black in our culture, and what it means to face prejudice night and day.  I don't want to reverse what progress we have made.  I pray hate does not triumph over tolerance and willingness to seek out our other and know them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a fine line between galvanizing voters and demoralizing them.  They want money, so they want to scare you a bit, but also make you a part of their "team".  I've never been a team sport player, so all the rah rah doesn't do much for me, and I'm already scared, thank you very much.  Somehow the ten emails a day I receive depress me, and I now delete them.  Every few days I give some money, but the sense of being part of something has been lost.  To me it feels like a bad dream that I wish were over.  Fatigue has set in, and my hope quotient is at empty.  Frankly, I have no ideas about how the candidates might do it better.  If we had a reasonable cap on election spending that would help, but people always get around these hurdles.  We could feed the world or we can continue this circus onslaught of promises, and threats and empty speech. 
Empty speech is draining.  It hollows me out inside and what gets filled up is despair.  I'm meditating and attempting to pay attention to birds and cats on front porches and ignore the chaos.  I have to protect myself.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I failed my driving test and have to retake in in two weeks.  The guy was nice, I just almost turned left onto a one way street when he told me to turn left.  I was so nervous I hadn't slept the night before much, and my brain was sluggish.  I knew the minute I asked him "hard left or soft left?" that I should not turn, but it was too late.  I hadn't read the sign first, and though I turned soft left, my words betrayed me.  I feel so stupid.
The right speech aspect of this morning was waiting in line, I met a woman who was 89 and was taking her test again, and, as it turned out, for macular degeneration in one eye as well.  I was surprised.  "You can take the test again?" I asked and she affirmed you could.  So when I knew I had failed my test I had hope I could do it again.  And even better, this lady had had macular generation in one eye for 32 years, and yet the other eye had not yet failed.  I've had a bad eye for 11 years.  Maybe I've got a few good years left in me! 
I feel very sorry for myself, but I haven't lost my perspective completely.  I'll live to fight another day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The media seems to be representing the worst kind of speech:  the running off at the mouth, anything said to get your attention kind of speech.  When speech is about getting your attention, then thoughtfulness and balance and responsibility go out the window.  We have evolved into an impulsive media with frenzy instead of calm and hype instead of facts.  There is no place for rationality.  My friend told me yesterday that she was listening, with her husband, to a news source that normally is internationally minded and fair, but instead they did a brief clip of Clinton, then lingered on a clip of Trump sounding reasonable, then followed with a Trump supporter.  He got nine tenths of the time and all of it free.  This bodes ill for the debates if the moderators are seduced by the lure of Trump's astounding comments.  Everyone seems to love a news flash.
I guess the only alternative is to read speeches of both candidates in full.  The interpretations are supremely suspect.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My next door neighbors, who have not occupied the house in ten years, and mostly live back East, stopped me to ask about their recycling can.  I was restraintful:  I said I didn't know or notice where it can gone.  They show up four or five times a year for a couple of days, and act as if I am their housekeeper.  This despite the fact that they have a housekeeper who comes in once a week to the empty house and polishes it to perfection.  They presume on neighborliness, though they show none themselves.  I guess I'm grateful they haven't turned it into an air bnb, but I'd like real people next door for security, sense of friendliness, and peace of mind.  Every time their house alarm goes off I wonder, and yet I've learned to let it be.  Their alarm company will call it in.  I don't actually think anyone has succeeded in robbing the place.  And I long ago decided it was not my responsibility, and though I have a key, I haven't used it since the first year or two; once when their gardener needed to turn off the watering system and once when the owners called and asked me to check if the house had been broken into.  That was risky of me, and I thought better of it after.  I won't do that again.
So I bear up silently with their clear assumption that I am somehow guarding their property.  But they are on their own as far as I'm concerned.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, my friend is giving a baby shower for my daughter, and one person invited, in her late eighties, is appearing to be confused.  Up until now she has been sharp as a tack, but I've explained to her that the invites are on email, and this lady doesn't have email.  I've verbally told her the date, the time, the place, and that it is a brunch three times at least, but she has talked to another friend, indignant about the lack of paper, and today I found out she has bothered the hostess as well.  This elderly lady is a tiger, and prone to resentment.  She has somehow cooked up in her head that she's been deprived of an elegant invitation.  Her speech is not appropriate, but I'm not worried about that; everyone knows she is a bulldozer.  I'm wondering if her cognition is impaired.  Is she forgetting each time that she has already been told all the details?  Has she had a small stroke?
So my right speech is to follow this up in some way, and be sure she's okay.  I'm going to call a friend, and if she doesn't know, I'll try to reach one of the lady's daughters.  It's concerning, and the real thing she may be attempting to convey is a need for help.  Someone to notice.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday the radio flyer wagon we ordered for our grandson's birthday arrived.  Today I decided I'd better put it together and make sure everything was there.  First my husband yelled that he was not putting it together.  Now I'd done the gift getting, and was willing to help, and it was his turn to step up to the plate.  But wisely, I said nothing.  Ten minutes later he said he'd assemble it and we opened the box and surveyed the nuts, bolts etc and got started.  It wasn't easy, but all the parts were in the box and together we got it done in about an hour.  But it would still be in the box if I had yelled back at him that I'd done everything for the gifts up until now, and it was the least he could do.  I let him cool down, and he did.  This is a long marriage.  I know when and how to pick my battles, and I understand that inside my husband's head he's already saying he should help.  I just need to give him time to do so.
The wagon looks great, and way to big for a one year old, but it's a useful item for throwing toys in and taking them out, moving the tires, going to the garden store and bringing back plants with the one year old in the middle, and making forts or imagining transport vehicles from another planet.  It's BIGNESS will impress our grandson.  A boy needs his wagon.  And his grandparents need all their experience and wisdom to navigate this old world.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I saw a sweet movie last night:  "The Meddler" with Susan Sarandon.  She portrays a woman who's husband has died and she moves across the country to be near her daughter.  She's at loose ends, and lonely.  You expect that her meddling in other people's lives will end badly, but it doesn't.  People appreciate her in a way her daughter cannot.  Her one failure is getting her daughter back together with her ex boyfriend.  Those scenes are realistic, and the gratitude shown by a young black guy she helps, a woman in the hospital, a young mother who is still wishing for a big wedding, and others feels just as real.  Her becoming a "grandmother" to the young mother's daughter is right.  There is a need and she fills it.  I did this myself ten years ago, and have never regretted it.  The Sarandon character is funny, and sometimes wrong, and way too intrusive around her daughter, but she is dignified, and given her due for struggling about how to go on after her husband's death.  We seldom see on screen older characters so fully alive and multidimensional.  The film speaks about people and situations and feelings that we don't see on screen among the young and beautiful.  I felt respected after the movie was over.  As if someone had seen the "real" me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a nice long walk with a friend this morning, and we talked about personal, private stuff that we felt like whining about.  We trust each other enough to appear less than noble to each other.  We're human, and that means getting frustrated and our feelings occasionally being trampled on and disappointments happening.  We can gripe about stuff and know it's just letting off steam.  It keeps us behaving well with the people who raise our hackles.  To me it's healthy.  My friend doesn't think less of me, she feels relieved that less than noble thoughts occur to others besides herself.  It's essential to have a little "saying the wrong thing" time.  So that to the people with whom we are exasperated we can be steady and calm, and not impulsive.
I treasure my friends for this reason as much as for what we do together and advice we sometimes give each other.  A well rounded friend can see you without the makeup and party face on.  The blemishes are there, and it's not a pretty picture, but it's a true picture of your friend.  She's like you, and how comforting is that1

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm done with the colonoscopy and have just had a nice breakfast, so naturally I'm in a rosy state of mind.  The nurses were wonderful and I felt in good hands.  Before I went in and after I returned, I could hear nurses talking to other patients and there was some drama.  One woman had health issues that meant she could not have aneasthia, and would have to reschedule, and another was anxious enough to be talking about his basketball playing son nonstop when he wasn't telling a convoluted story that didn't appear to make any sense at all.  We were certainly a Chatty Cathy group of patients, and the nurses kept up with us and ran around between us.  I heard one nurse assuring the guy she'd be right back to hear the rest about his basketball playing son.  Now that is right speech!
We were all in this thing called health care together, and determined to be cheerful.  Wow! 
I learn a lot about interconnectedness at the doctor's office or with procedures.  I witness compassion, courage and kindness.  I'd like to see the same behavior on the street, at work, at school, at home.  We clearly have the capacity, we just need to exercise it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm gearing up for a colonoscopy, which means my socializing is dampened considerably.  Eye injection:  check.  Colonoscopy:  check.  Mammogram:  check.  Bone Density:  check.  Next up:  skin cancer exam.  Then the dreaded driver's test.  Luckily, there has been much merriment in between:  a big birthday bash for my husband with the whole crew, an upcoming baby shower for my daughter, a grandson's first birthday, holidays and other birthdays.  Isn't that just the way?!  Life is all mixed up with worry and anticipation and laughter and tears.
Today I'm going to read my murder mystery, eat chicken broth and perhaps talk to a couple of people on the phone.  On the weekend I'll get out and be among humanity more.  Maybe even take in a movie and stroll around the neighborhood.  And eat solid food again.  Yeah!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We've just returned from a long weekend celebration of my husband's birthday, and everything went smoothly for thirteen people plus a baby.  A lot of effort driving and accomodating others was put in by all, and having a swimming pool and lots of places to walk without getting in a car helped a lot.  There was so much right speech and restraint from impulsive speech; all done out of love and respect for each other.  Now we're all back to our respective homes but the glow lingers and the knitting together than occurred is not undone. 
I'm a great believer in ritual.  A friend calls me tribal and that is so true.  Occasions must be marked and honoring done.  It benefits the honoree and the people paying respect.  And fun is an important component.  We want the memories to be light and happy, so that if there are serious touches we don't come away feeling weighted.  And photos help, to bring back the moments.  I'm about to look at mine on my phone, and relive a bit the magic.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we're leaving for a birthday celebration for my husband.  All the kids and grandkids will be there.  I feel great joy and excitement at the prospect, but also danger at the speech disasters that may be lurking.  I want to be fully awake and careful, yet detached enough to let impulsive speech roll over me.  I'm fortunate that I have a practice that aids me.  My husband does not.  He's anxious, and would suffer either way:  devastated if nothing was done for his birthday yet dreading how he might offend or be offended.  I could tell him to lighten up, but it's not a gear he possesses.  So I have to detach from his anxiety and enjoy my family without rescuing anyone.  Quite a high wire act, but one many of us do when reunions and celebrations occur.  Nothing is simple.  Immediate feeling is intertwined with history and expectation and serendipity.  Swimming in the turbulent waters with all these feelings requires both a letting go and compassion.  We're only human after all.  I'm going to embrace our frailties and foibles and have fun.  And take pictures.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm fascinated by the research coming out of Hungary about dogs and language.  They convinced dogs to remain motionless in a MRI machine for eight minutes to scan their brains and discovered they DO know certain words and respond favorably to positive praise regardless of tone or emphasis.  And how they convinced these dogs to remain motionless without treats or punishment was because the dogs wanted to do what the other dogs were doing, and yes, after the scan, they got treats.  The dogs tolerated headphones and immobilization because they thought it was cool.  And they proved they understood "good dog" no matter how it was articulated.  Their brains were stimulated by praise.
Now that sounds like a fine description of how humans operate as well.  Certainly it is how children learn.  Positive reinforcement, as it is called.  I'm seeing it whenever I visit my baby grandson.  Encouragement makes the brain glow.  We are programed to want to make others happy and do what others do.  It is pretty basic.  In the photo of the dogs on grouped around the MRI machine posed perfectly, their smiles shine with pride.  Seeing it, I can't help but grin with joy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just returned from a walk with a friend.  We looked at a couple of streets where we normally don't walk, which is a treat for the eyes as there are so many different styles and sizes and landscaping.  With each stop we were imagining living in that particular house and what we liked and wouldn't like from what we could see from the street.  We both have old houses but were drawn to some ultra modern places, and part of that is no doubt that it would feel so different to have open space and spareness.  But we found many houses that we loved, and I say that without any sense of dissatisfaction with what we have.  Both of us will downsize when we move; we're of that age.  So our talk was a playful one, with "what ifs" and admiration without any covetness.  We are comfortable in our skin, and can enjoy excess without participating in it.   This kind of "play" talk is enjoyable and comfortable:  we are two very old friends who have watched our children grow up and fly from the nest, and we now are giving away more than we are buying.  The "wanting" things is pretty much past its pull on us.  Now we have fun.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I have to go to the DMV today to fail my vision test, turn in the eye doctor's form and get another appointment for a driving test.  I'm stressed out, and gloomy.  I'm wearing a black shirt if that gives you the picture.  My husband offered to drive me there for moral support and at first I turned him down, but then thought, what the heck, I could use some moral support or tranquillizers or a new brain.  This is me accepting help:  desperation.  Now I'm superstitious about his coming:  will it be good luck or bad luck?  Will a black cat cross my path?  This is the degree of my irrationality.
I can tell myself I'll get around on buses and walk more which would be good for me.  But I want the freedom of driving myself by myself, if the truth be told.  I'll hope things go well, so that I can get all hysterical again when I have the driving test, which is long and difficult, as it ought to be.  I drive fine normally, but there are so many ways to blow the test; let me not count them lest I go ballistic.  It's a good thing to accept support, isn't it?  I'm clinging to that idea.  My character is improving even if my eyesight is not.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a teeth cleaning this morning, and though there was some pain, I thanked the hygenist after she was done.  I'm sure they don't get a lot of appreciation or gratitude, but it's not a fun job and they are very careful and kind.  Nobody wants to go to the dentist.  Yet the more I hear from friends, the more I know they keep me from false teeth and other horrors.  I also do it for my heart, as plaque is bad for the body anywhere it accumulates.  Yes, absolutely, I dread going, but I know it's the right thing to do. 
There are lots of these ordinary, mostly invisible people helping us.  They are dedicated and compassionate, and their work is essential.  I try to say hi to the garbage collectors, the postman, the bank teller, the checkout clerk.  They deserve some respect, not to be the scapegoat for someone's anger misdirected.  I wave to the flagman.  After all, is it his fault the road needs repairing and we must slow down and lose a couple of minutes?  I wave at drivers who let me in and are courteous.  I nod at drivers to don't attempt to run me over when I'm in the crosswalk. 
It's a practice.  It's gratitude.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm proud of myself over a simple thing:  I called the woman who cuts my hair and asked her if she had a cancellations for today.  Normally I would be too shy to ask.  But today I thought why not?  And sure enough she did have a time I could do.  Now this young woman is getting her engineering degree and only cuts hair on Sundays, and next Sunday is Labor Day weekend, so I admit to a bit of desperation urging me to call.  And I thought to myself, well, we've known each other for years.  I'm very fond of her, and she's not going to be offended.  It's just a glitch in me, that I have trouble asking for anything.  My younger daughter has the same shyness. 
So if it's not too late to overcome unwillingness to make dinner reservations or asking for help, and I'm trying it out.  And so far, so good.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I had fun this morning planning the baby shower she is giving for our daughter.  We enjoyed the choices we made and the menu and colors and decorations.  It's a happy occasion, and the thought of it cheered up a gray overcast morning.  And we are knitting together our long friendship by her generous act:  another milestone shared and later remembered with fondness.  We parted glowing from the planning now done and a join visualization of what needed to be accomplished and when.  This kind of speech is plain old bonding.  Generations are being formed and older ones passing.  It's the way of the world, and we are comfortable with it.  It so helps to have friends along the path side by side with you.  I'm lucky.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm having a bit of an argument with my husband over his planning.  Sometimes he says he wants to go to the cabin, but he waffles back and forth about going, and wants to reserve the right to change his mind several times.  If he takes the dogs, then I can make plans.  But he waffles on that as well, and that means I have to stay around home and cannot go see my grandson.  So today I asked him to make a decision about going or not and taking the dogs or not, so that I could make plans of my own.  In the past he has gone at the last minute and I cannot do anything with friends because its such late notice, and I end up at home reading and getting bored.
We will see if he keeps his promise to decide and stick to it this week.  He genuinely is indecisive, but it's impacting me more than is fair.  I have trouble defending myself because from his point of view I do "lots of things".  I am way more social than he, and I need to feel I'm seeing more than just him.  When he worked, it was easier to do a lot that didn't include him, but now, he resents my being away, but doesn't want to do much with me.  He's at loose ends.  I hear from friends a lot of husbands have this problem with retirement, and they don't have the habit of planning activities for themselves.  I'm sympathetic, up to a point.  And the point is right now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today a friend and I went to an art museum and had fun discussing various paintings and sculptures.  And right as we were leaving a man came up to us and asked what impressed us most and my friend talked about the Warhol paintings.  The three of us got into a lively discussion about what certain of his paintings meant to us, and he was appreciative of our perspectives.  I said most of the works were about identity and how there is a facade and then underneath, the mystery of a human being perhaps never fully grasped by another.  We are trapped in our persona and unable to be fully seen. 
It was great fun to hear him surprise us by saying he docented in the museum and his groups couldn't seem to grasp what Warhol was doing.  We were flattered.
Now I can savor the serendipity of running into him and the joy of sharing with a stranger a bit of passionate response to art.  And then there was the Agnes Martin room, which I drank in and attempted to lure my friend into appreciating as much as I do.  At least I introduced her to a fine painter.  Satisfaction!  Ah!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Buddhist teacher wrote a lovely poem about the foundation's brand new sanctuary that burned in a recent fire.  Most of the buildings are gone, and the caretakers lost their house and all their possessions.  So this place of trees and verdancy has become ashes.  His poem says to "stay with the not knowing.  Many found true freedom by surrendering to not knowing.  This is indeed an ancient secret that liberated thousands of hearts." 
We feel sadness when we don't yet know what the future will bring.  Perhaps the sanctuary will be transformed into open meadows with an abundance of wildflowers and animals with food to forage.  It will be sunny instead of shaded.  There will be tents until there are structures.  Trees will spring up and they will be surprising species.  The hillsides will be flaming with fireweed.  Our expectation is dashed, but thus it is with most expectation.  People will come together to rebuild and respect nature anew.  It was a land unownable.  It belongs to nature.  We must respectfully accept whatever nature offers us.  I have a feeling it will be spectacular.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just paid a visit to our grandson, and he's talking and scooting around and learning so much every day it is dazzling.  He can turn the light switch on when you say on and off when you say off, and say up and down and mama and daddy and more and good and any number of words.  So I can have a kind of conversation with him and he answers, with plausible intonation and great seriousness, even if I don't quite know what he's talking about.  But if you ask Book? he responds favorably and he also knows sign language for milk and done.  Quite a little verbal wizard for ten months.  I'm impressed, but then I'm over the moon for him.
Language and speech is so amazing when you see it begin and develop in a baby, and I'm around him enough to get the full effect.  I realize all over again what a gift it is and how precious.
I can't wait until he comes up with a name for me.  Our bond is being forged, and I love every minute of it.