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.