Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I went with a friend to Weight Watchers, and we signed up.  We have struggled before together to lose weight, and we both are determined to make this work.  The right speech of honesty is our starting point, and we trust each other and have lost weight together before.  But right speech is sometimes the ability to grumble, and we both need to whine and complain about how short we are and how much effort it takes for us to eat less, and avoid carbs.  We're in the same tiny boat together and capsizing is an ever present danger.  We are swim buddies in this endeavor.

I liked the guy who signed us up and his straight forwardness as well.  No promises made, no platitudes, just how the plan works and the offer to answer any questions that come up.  I didn't mind so much this time being weighed and looking at the number.  I'm going to try to be an adult about this health problem of mine.  I need to lose weight and eat wisely or my diabetes is going to go out of control and my health deteriorate.  Simple as that.  I'm going to get comfortable with this truth and be mindful of what I stuff myself with.  It's about self respect and kindness to myself. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I believe I vaguely imagined that when I got old my kids would be interested in my past and pile me with questions.  Alas, that was a fantasy gleaned from fairy tales, books and movies.  In real life, they are not so curious, and my friends verify this to be the case with them as well. The kids are busy with their own lives, and consider us out of date and irrelevant.  They happily envision us going to the grave with our secrets.  How could it possibly affect them?

Not only that, but I seem to have two kinds of friends:  the kind who want to know about me and what's going on in my life and the kind who want me to know what's going on with them, but have no curiousity about me.  I'm weeding out the latter kind, by attrition, so that at least someone will listen to me occasionally.  The one way street thing has gotten mighty old.

Paring down.  At my age everything comes down to simplifying and weeding out the unsatisfying relationships.  Now with my kids, my interest in them is so intense that I can laugh off their lack of interest in me.  They are the unconditional love people.  I love them unconditionally and they love their kids unconditionally. 

But I'd have no one who gives a rip (as my best friend would say) if it weren't for my husband and close friends.  From them I hear the advice and guidance I need.  From them I learn my lot is universal and can laugh at our silly expectations.  I bounce off the ideas and they bear witness to my struggles and triumphs.  So the narcissistic friends may disappear, and I wish them well, but I don't really have the time these days.  And if I want obliviousness, there are always my kids.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I used to dislike the audio packs for art exhibits, but over time I've changed my mind.  Today we saw a lovely Bonnard show, and my husband and I both got the audio.  I believe it's not just a change of heart on my part, but the audios are better:  less intrusive, no talking down to the listener, more specific and usually encompassing at least two points of view.  They are no longer lectures, but more natural responses to seeing the art, with a few bits of information thrown in to enhance our understanding.  There were plenty of paintings without numbers, and I went at my own pace.  I could sit down in silence, or chose a painting with audio and ponder what was being said.  Nothing was shoved down my throat; all was easeful. 

Now part of my conversion is not just the improved quality of the tapes, but my eyesight.  To have to read so much text on the wall is straining to my eyes, and I relax more when I don't need to read.  I can keep my experience primarily a visual take on the painting, and with most of the works there is no aural component.  If I've enjoyed a show, as I very much did this one, I'll buy the catalogue, and sit down at home under excellent light and read up about what interests me.  This process brings my recall back and lets me feel the art with my body.  Right now I can already tell you the color was so very sensual and stunning, that the mind cannot encompass it in any meaningful way.  Experiencing this exhibit will be going on for weeks or months.  And I'm willing to let the various parts of the process of being the viewer and the listener and the reader interact with each other for a deeper, richer engagement with Bonnard's art.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're going to an art museum that just reopened at a new location, and there has been a lot of talk surrounding this change about whether an art museum should be a work of art architecturally or the building that houses the art need not be an object d'art in and of itself.  At first there was a grand design, but monetary concerns downscaled the plan and incorporated an existing building.  Now the talk will be of what's inside and I find that appropriate.  When we visited Bilbao, the building was a grand art piece, but what was inside was disappointing.  Some old buildings are uninspired and uninteresting, but what they protect is exquisite.  The building does not have to speak for the level of art found therein.

I love exciting architecture, don't get me wrong, and as I grow older I love walking the streets of a city and looking up and around as much as going inside an structure.  The Frick is a delight inside and out, as is the Guggenheim and the de Young and Menil.  But are they my favorite?  No, I adore the Prado in Madrid,  and the Met in NY and the Louve and the Marmottan in Paris.  It's the treasures inside and maybe the grounds, part of the city its in and other intangibles that make for a great museum experience.  But in the end, the art speaks for itself.  It needs no translation by the edifice which houses it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I made a mistake this morning by immediately responding to an email from my daughter.  I try to wait 24 hours before responding to friends and family, but this time I blew it.  The result?  I had to talk to my son about my reply and I have regret about what I said.  In that moment, I thought I was being heartfelt and honest and loving, but I forgot one fact about myself:  I usually give too much information and assault others with too much verbage.  Now I've stirred myself up and probably upset my daughter.

I need the pause.  If I'd waited until tomorrow I would have handled the exchange differently, and maybe avoided hurting her.  Maybe not, but it was worth a shot.  I should have a sign on my monitor, in fact, I'm going to put one up right now.  PAUSE.  WAIT 24 HOURS.  DON'T BE AN IDIOT!

I'm sure I'll get into trouble many other ways, but I'm going to strive to keep this intention.  For my own sake, and others with whom I come into contact.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My son created a song he sings to his baby son as he holds him "standing" on his chest:

Two feet tall like a tree in the forest
Swaying side to side in the wind
Growing so tall to reach the sun
My baby baby boy
My baby baby bun

The baby dances and lifts his feet as his father sways him.   He smiles in absolute delight.  When you see it you laugh with joy.  It lifts the heart.  That is what poetry can do.  It expresses the inexpressible.  The sing-songy nursery rhymes, the songs for small children are odes to the delight in the world we see in a child's eyes.  The wonder.  And we feel with our hearts the newness, the brightness of the world again through them.  They remind us of the treasure that is this brief life on the planet.  My heart is uplifted with this child and his child.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I have a few go-to topics for when we can't think of anything to say and we are eating a meal.  Number one is movies.  We analyze a movie we've recently seen, or a director or actor.  It's fun.  Another is childhood.  This may surprise you, but after more than four decades of marriage, there are still things we don't know about each other.  The other day my husband described his childhood house again and for the first time I realized they had a playroom.  I only saw his house one time and it was eons ago, so we discussed the objects in the room and the dutch door at one end that allowed the whole room to be like a giant playpen, where his parents could look in through the top half and have the bottom half closed.  Pretty clever.  My husband has amazing recall over his childhood, whereas I have many fewer memories.  But he stayed in the same town and house, whereas I moved a few times.  My favorite place, Virginia I remember the most about, including the wild violets in the spring and daffodils growing on the hill where we kept three sheep to eat the grass.

Topics we avoid are politics and our kids.  Both take us down the road to worry or speculation, and we try to remain detached from the zeitgeist and pretending we can manage our kids' lives.  We can only observe.

In a pinch, I ask him a science question, as he is an encyclopedia of such information or I tell him the plot of a novel I'm reading that I know he'll never pick up.  In such a way we entertain each other despite seeing each other quite a lot now that we're retired.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I returned last night from two days with my little grandson.  He is a treat!  He is making great effort to communicate and can imitate sounds and talks right along with me.  We went out to dinner and he was totally entertained by the strangers in the room, staring without blinking, mouth open, drooling with a stunned look on his face.  He was handed around the table, happy as a clam.  Our own conversation was focused a lot on him, but we also managed to discuss other topics.  We avoided politics, because it gets everyone steaming these days, even though we all vote the same.  Just the general atmosphere is so loaded that in ranting about hate speech, one can end up sounding just as hateful.  It was a respite from the news and the bombardment most of us experience just going about our daily lives.  The radio in the car, the headlines in the grocery store, the newspapers, all besiege us.

So a baby cooing was the perfect antidote to the state of the nation.  The state of the babies is mighty fine. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Zen Buddhist teacher often said that everyone needs a witness to the struggle with a path.  Usually, that witness in Buddhism is the person's teacher, but most of us need others to serve in that capacity as well.  We check in with "swim buddies" and discuss what our intentions are and have them help us be on the lookout for unintentional harming.  I also have a therapist whom I see occasionally, and over time I have come to trust that she honors my Buddhist practice and guides me in appropriate ways to interact intelligently and kindly with family and friends.  You would think at my age I would somehow KNOW what to do in every situation, but such is not the case.  And, as my practice encourages me to come fresh to every moment, what I've done in the past is not enough at times to show me the way with whatever is up right now.

Today I see my therapist, and I need her guidance to see my best actions to be taken, and also where no action is the right path.  I'm grateful I have such a person, whom I trust, and whom I know is aiding me in my vows and path.  She's real and honest and not afraid to throw her opinion in the hat.  And I pick up that hat, put it on my head, and hope through osmosis the wise road rises up.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Why is so often these days right speech seems to be about keeping silent?  Is this the wisdom of old age or the fatigue of old age?  I wait for my kids to ask me about an issue, or the story unfolds.  They are all competent adults, so their privacy is important.  We are not keeping tabs on each other.  We check in, and luckily I see them fairly often, except for my out-of-state daughter.  We text.  They send photos.  But their struggles are their own, and I'm not of an age yet when my issues need to be supported by them.

If I get worried, I call.  I usually don't ask directly, but listen to their tone and mood and only question them if something seems off.  They've all poured their hearts out to me at times and I to them, but we've not got relationships where a lot of personal information is exchanged.  They've got their friends for that, and some have therapists.  I admit my therapist acts as a filter for me, so I don't overreact or burden them with unnecessary worries.

This cautionary method is not for everyone, I'm just saying, for me that's what's happening these days.  I'm noticing, but not judging myself or them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been talking baby talk the past couple of days.  I've been helping out my son and daughter-in-law and enjoying my grandson.  They have noted that when he is in day care, he doesn't verbalize as much because the caregiver has other small children and he is the youngest.  When I see him at first he doesn't respond verbally, then after a few hours he speaks more.  This is the struggle with childcare.  The child never gets the same level of attention as he does at home.  Soon he will be making his voice heard more, but it's difficult for all of us to handle.  Of course, first is that he is safe and in a healthy environment.  And he clearly is.  I saw the place this morning.  But one can imagine that the toddlers dominate, because they speak and move around so much.  They are all darling, and obviously well cared for, but a baby can be sat down or put in the crib and the demands of the toddlers are ever present, with snacks, potty training, negotiating toy squabbles between them.  The baby is in that way the easiest but the most likely to be shortchanged. 

It's wrenching for the parents and I feel so sympathetic to them and my grandson.  But I live too far away to babysit him every day, and all I can do is help out when they are home and needing me to play with him while they run errands, grade papers and grocery shop.  I talk or sing to him most of the time, and try to engage him in looking at things, playing with his toys or listening to his music boxes and I read to him a lot, as do his parents.  It's not perfect.  Nothing ever is.  But I'm up for some intense baby talk.  That's my right speech act.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've had a perilous path this week with right speech.  I've had a lot of bad speech addressed to me, upsetting me, and I've had to let go of any response, because it's not my business and people have attempted to put me in the middle out of their own reactivity.  Luckily, I talked to my therapist yesterday, which re-enforced my determination to stay out of the tempest and see what comes.  I every case, I've offered support to the person and in no case can I fix anything.  So there it is.  We'd like to set the record straight, get the people on the right path, but, oh, right, we have no real idea of what the right path for another person is.  We only know they maybe need professional help.  Don't know.  My Zen teacher's mantra is still the best position.  We're grandiose if we think we can change people by guiding them.  Sometimes our own behavior, over time, changes our relationship with the other person, but our words, not so much.  Words are easy, and inadequate.

You have to trust people to work out issues by themselves.   I am letting go and trusting whatever is necessary will somehow transpire.  Things change.  A road that looks completely blocked opens up.  Or the road feared turns out to be the road to healthy change.  We don't know.  Patience and calm response are the best policy.  But, boy, can they be a challenge!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just come back from an hour and a half walk with a friend.  And it has occurred to me that we spent half the time talking about cancer and illnesses of friends and the other half about upcoming trips we are making.  She and her whole family are going on a sailing trip to the Carribean for her husband's birthday and I was discussing my husband and my plans for our anniversary and also a trip two friends and I are taking to the southwest in a couple of months.  So our lives could fairly be said to be split between health scares of our friends, family and ourselves and the escapism possible at our age due to retirement and time.  We are holding our family and friends close at the same time we are realizing our time with them and them with us is finite.

How to keep the joy in living when we are aging and experiencing loss more frequently?  My friend and I do it by instinct, not calculation, but there it always is:  the elephant in the room.  We also share our losses and fears, which doesn't transform anything, yet somehow makes the pain more bearable.  We are not alone.  We are able to comfort each other.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I walked with a friend yesterday afternoon and she wanted to talk about a couple of things that were worrying her.  Sounds innocent enough, but when we go down this road she usually gets mad at me.  I listened, and then she asked me some questions and I told her to follow the advice of her therapist.  She pressured me and I said yes, if that were my circumstance, I would be worried.  Then she asked me what I would do.  Loaded, and I knew it.  I said I would get the whole family in the room and talk to the person and do an intervention.  She wanted to know what an intervention was.  I said that's where you tell the person you are deeply concerned, that the situation is serious, and you offer suggestions to help them.  Maybe have the names of therapists or support groups, and you ask what you can do to help.

This made her furious.  She wants to keep the elephant in the room hidden and not address its presence.  I said, that was just what I would do if it were me.  Be honest with the person instead of protecting them from seeing the harm being done.  I said, but don't follow my advice, talk to your therapist.

She caught herself and apologised, but she wanted to leave me and head home.  She said she couldn't deal with it anymore now.  She practically ran away, except I said I was headed home her way and we talked about the flowers on the fruit trees and the weather. 

I felt set up, but of course, it was unintentional on her part.  She was hoping I was somebody different who would say its no biggie.  I am not that person and she knows it.  She is struggling with huge grief and dread and fear, and I feel only love for her.  But if she asks what I think, I'm going to tell her.  Protecting herself is not working.  She is sinking.  And as I said to her, my concern is for her welfare.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A friend emailed me this morning about a few things, but one issue on her mind was how she sees less and less of her grandchildren as they are growing up.  They have classes, athletics, their peers and babysitting is no longer a connection.  She advised me to treasure my time with my new grandson, because the time when we really matter is brief and mainly pre-school age.  I've already discovered this, and my own memories of my grandparents are mostly when I was very young.  But those memories have stuck with me, and I believe they shaped me and my view of the world.  So I try not to cling to my grandchildren as they have a wider set of connections.  I know I represent something to them:  unconditional love, support and admiration.  I'm imbedded in their hearts, but their minds and bodies are too busy to much notice.  I'm fading in importance but forever in their memories.

Our children need us in the early years of their parenting, but as they learn the ropes, they gain confidence, and eventually they soar on their own.  We've seen them tired and overwhelmed and now they want to see themselves as competent and masterful.  And we want that as well.  Our job seems to be to be that silent support and encouragement that acknowledges their skill.  So as their children are breaking away from us, so are they, and we, as ever, are to be left behind to wave.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I stopped by the chat with my friend's mother.  My friend is out of town for a week and she likes one of us to check on her each day.  I love visiting her because she is funny, laughs a lot at my terrible jokes and has a love of old films to rival mine.  I'd just seen Hail Caesar from the Coen Brothers and we discussed Esther Williams and Roy Rogers and the like.  She is still interested in so much, and that enthusiasm is contagious.  She's seen it all and is wise, but without pontificating or advising.  We had a long talk about how young women today don't seem to understand what we went through trying to work and raise kids.  They're not curious.  And they wait so long to marry and consider having a family that they push themselves up against the wire.  It's painful to witness.

I lost my mother thirty years ago, so my friend's mother connects me with that generation.  I love hearing about her view of what's happening today, and I value her perspective.  Not all ninety five year olds are as sharp and aware, but she is an example of what good genes and luck can do for you.  Physically she may struggle to get around, but her mind is as lively as someone half her age or half again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Right speech?  I can't even text the right person.  Trying to arrange going to the movies with a friend, I accidentally texted the wrong person with the same first name, received what seemed like a bizarre reply, then double-checked and realized my mistake.  I then used the old fashioned telephone, left a message and she just called me back.  Then I texted the wrong person with the same first name and apologized and explained what happened.  Is this efficient?  I think not.

My friend here said she often emails or texts the wrong friend with the same name herself.  She may be lying to make me feel better, but I'll take it.

In our hurry to be in a hurry we can end up convoluted and bogged down by mistakes.  In the old days of the rotary dial phones, that probably didn't happen.  Even emails are safer that way, because you have to type in the address and it's usually some version of the person's name.  But now my IPhone pops up with the email or phone number after one or two characters, and my eyes don't register, they just plunge into my message without checking who I'm sending to.  It's like the guy in the car who is tailgating, and he swerves around you and swoops in ahead to be caught at the red light.  Has he saved time?  Not really.  Am I full of nasty glee that he's been thwarthed?  You betcha.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Two friends and myself are planning a trip in May.  We email, and somehow the communication has not been really successful.  We manage to misunderstand each other and clarification is like pulling teeth.  First it was about waiting a week before buying flights.  One of us did it anyway.  Now there is confusion about where we are staying, and how to book it.  We perhaps have put the cart before the horse.  Now that we have flights, the next phase is to break up our stay in the two places, then book a hotel in each.  I'm thinking I need to get out my travel books and talk turkey:  the mileage distances between the airport we're all flying in and out of, the two towns, and when we will all three be getting in a rental car when we arrive to get to the first hotel, and when we need to leave the second hotel to all get to the airport to make are three different flights. 

Okay, so a little research is in order, then we can try this again.  I actually had to call one of the friends to get unconfused, but evidently it was only temporary.  I will laugh at this later, but right now, I feel this planning is getting above my mental acuity capacity.  There are limits to email.  And I've run smack dab into them on this one!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I missed facetime with my four month old grandson this morning.  How the world has changed!  The paths of speech have expanded exponentially!  I have my preference for the in-the-same-room variety, but I've had to adapt.  I'm a texting fiend these days, and email and phone round it out, but I'm so far adverse to tweets and instagram etc.  You have to be TOO connected for those, and I still don't carry my phone around everywhere or make myself attached to a device.  I walk the dogs, go to movies etc without anyone being able to reach me.  What a concept!

But who knows what I'll be doing when the grandkids are older?  Already, my oldest grandson has an IPhone.  It's coming!  Now I'm just waiting for him to actually use it to phone me!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I was the recipient of some wise right speech.  My friend and I went to a quilt show, and she gave me a pep talk about my having quit the quilting group we were both in.  She praised my freeform, laid back approach and told me she appreciated it.  I will think over what she said, but what touched me most was her earnestness in valuing my input.  I could tell she meant it, and seeing the Gee's Bend like quilts today reminded me I love the goofy style and had felt, in the past, okay about not measuring precisely and having sharp corners and rows super even.

In other words, she reminded me that I had been having fun quilting, and not to let others in the group cause me to feel selfconscious and sloppy.  I love my friend for that, and whatever I decide, I feel closer to her.  She made right effort, and was supportive and encouraging.  I'm not feeling sorry for myself quite so much, and I may take up the scissors and tape and sewing machine again really soon.  I hope.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've had a week of practicing right speech with my dear friend and older two kids' stepmother, who has been visiting.  We manage to discuss our mutual past and lightly touch on our mutual husband without crossing any boundaries.  It requires determination and effort on both our parts, and we succeeded.  I believe we are both proud of this friendship, and we know it benefits our kids.  We find things to talk about and share, like our mutual grandchildren and books and travel and politics.  We are quite synchronized in regards to politics, so that helps tremendously.  I learn about her system in Ireland and she listens to what's going on here. 

And I practiced not emailing or calling or texting while she was here, so that I felt relaxed and not torn.  Now I'm free to call people back and take up ordinary life again, but I gave her my full attention while she was here.  I was at her disposal at all times, and we had fun.  I've made my life much simpler by doing this, and it comes out of the Buddhist practice, for which I am grateful.