Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just read an article in a magazine my daughter wrote about her and my granddaughter's reaction to the election.  It is heartfelt and wonderful.  Right speech in spades!  Speaking of which, I wish my tiny grandson could speak about why it is he won't take a bottle.  He's great, until he freaks out when he feels hungry because he won't take the bottle.  I'd give anything to be able to explain to him that he feels bad because he's hungry.  He will drink about an ounce, then refuse and get very upset.  It's his mother's breast milk, but he prefers his mother attached to it.  As soon as she picks him up and he nurses, he's back to his happy self.  Most of the five hours I watch him, he's a happy camper, playing on the floor looking all around, listening to me sing to him, being strolled around the neighborhood, but finally he is hungry and then he's inconsolable.  Well, maybe next week he'll figure it out.  I'm off while his other grandparents take over, so hopefully they'll solve the problem.  Me, I just wish I could whisper in his ear that the answer to his suffering is in that bottle, if he'd only give in a little and drink it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

How to communicate with a baby?  My first day sitting my grandson was good.  He took the bottle and two naps.  But as the time wore on I could see he was confused:  something was missing, something was WRONG.  I lugged him around to keep him physically connected, and he only got a little fussy the last couple of hours.  I sang and bounced him and lay on the floor next to him.  I cannot reassure him with words.  I have to keep him busy and interested in the objects in the house, the strolling outside, blowing on his belly, and moving him from his play mat to his bouncy chair to his back door, where he likes to stare out at the back yard and trees.  But when words come he will trust them only so far as his experience tells him.  I hope he felt that it was okay today, and he was fine.  I told him so.  But did he agree?  He will really get fussy if he's unhappy, and I don't believe that will happen, as he's used to me.  But the bottle is no substitute for the breast feeding, and the relief as he began nursing was palpable.  Mommy's home, all's right with the world. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just returned from three days away at a hot springs.  Heaven!  The temperature of the water is between 92o and 102o.  You bob up and down like apples in a barrel.  We took our time with everything, and got up late enough to miss breakfast completely.  The pool is so warm even the rain doesn't deter people from swimming.  Though there isn't much swimming or exertion, just floating on floats or noodles.  Every fifteen or twenty minutes you have to get out and rest and drink water.  We've been to this place before a few times, but this time we really went with the flow.  We relaxed.  We didn't get in the car, as we could walk into town and eat there, or wander, as we did, in the neighborhoods and admire gardens and victorian houses.  We didn't talk much either, and I noticed that a lot of people were in the pool, they mostly were quiet as well, even the children.  I seldom saw a cell phone, and because you cannot drink alcohol and use this pool, the roudyness was saved for a pool below that is ten degrees cooler, where you can have a drink.  Peace and quiet.  Cliched phrase, but lovely to experience.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was walking our dog when I ran into an author who lives close by, and I told her how much I'd enjoyed her new book.  We got to talking about what we like to read, and she loves spy novels and detective books, and I said I did as well.  I told her how much I appreciated reading about these topics partly because it's such a violent and often cruel world, and the books allow that knowledge in, but on a limited and controlled basis.  She said the books were puzzles she liked solving.  Her last book is a memoir/poem/flight of fancy that is beautiful and defies genre.  She is genuine in person and friendly.  Grounded is how I'd describe her.  But what touched me is she asked my name several times until she got it right.  She was registering me and our interaction in a "present" way.  She was fully with me for a few minutes.  No wonder she writes so well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm witnessing the struggle of young parents first hand and it is painful.  Part of the problem is the demands on parents these days.  We just stayed home with our kids, and seldom attempted to take them to restaurants or get back to work in the early months.  Now that lifestyle isn't possible, as it takes both paychecks.  I was able to nurse without working, and weaned my kids before returning to work.  Nowadays there is the breast pump, the "essential" gear, the stimulation of baby's brain and the admonitions about safety, hand washing, sleeping on the back, no blankets, no this, no that.  It makes me jumpy, and I'm just the grandparent.  And ultimately, the consumer culture is pushing all these things to have and do or your baby won't thrive.  It's wrong, and intuition has gone out the window.  There is no confidence encouraged for the parent, and the twist of "experts" is more harmful than helpful.  The cacaphony needs to quiet down.  Everybody's baby cries, has sleep problems, and does not develop a "routine" except for brief periods of time.  And children's behavior goes in cycles, not as a progressive stairway to heaven.  Parents are being talked at by commercial engines, and it heightens the anxiety.  I hope most parents learn to trust themselves and "go with the flow", because there is no formula for perfection.  These are baby human beings.  Get real.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I weigh in at Weight Watchers and the same leader is always there.  I really like him, and his encouragement keeps me coming.  A couple of weeks ago I described the documentary "I Am Not Your Negro", about James Baldwin.  Today he told me he'd seen it, and we talked some more.  He's black, and I like his perspective and the fact that he'd seen a TV special on Maya Angelou and her son told about the great conversations his mother would have with "Jimmy".  He must have been strikingly exceptional, beginning as a child when his white teacher mentored him and took him to plays and concerts.  He had many famous friends and was published early and often.  His words are heartrendingly true, but his presence must have been equally powerful.  People were drawn to him.  Charisma is intangible, but coupled with the ability to craft words and keep your own transparency, that is truly special.  His speech is still changing lives, long after his death.  I told the leader at Weight Watchers he spoke to me searingly in my twenties, and speaks as powerfully to me in my seventies.  That is some right speech!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I attended a political meeting yesterday in which only the host and myself actually wanted to take any kind of action.  The others were listing how busy they were, and though I missed the first meeting, it seems that the sparse attendance was due to the hope that this group would be a support group.  So I listened and got more and more discouraged.  The host had joined another group, and she was inclined to tackle that group's agenda, rather than devise a task for this group she'd begun.  I could see why she was discouraged, but my morale was lower when I left after two hours.  I believe overthinking or overtalking is detrimental to action.  I prefer picking something small, and plugging away one day at a time.  These people had overwhelmed themselves by swallowing the whole picture, and were in major stomach upset.  I've been guilty of that myself.  So I guess this group is dissolving, and I'll continue looking for more activities that will help bring compassion back to the forefront of political action, instead of power and rhetoric and posing. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just got a text from our son that our grandson has his first real illness:  bronchitis.  It's scary, and startling as well.  They seem so hardy, and he has weathered day care and other challenges, but this time an antibiotic is required.  We know they are vulnerable, but we don't know.  I know his parents are frightened, and it makes you rethink all your decisions.  We want to protect them, but it's not always possible.  The love for your child is overwhelming and your own vulnerability because of it crushing at times.  Love is to open your heart up wide and let the storms buffet it.  I know the little fellow will be fine, but I feel for his parents.  We will all be breathing a sigh of relief when he's better, and our hearts are beating a little faster until that moment.  There are no words, only prayers.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night helicopters invaded our neighborhood, looking for gunmen, and we were terrified.  It turns out one of my friends had to shelter in place at the exercise studio for an hour while the police attempted to get one of the gunmen off the roof of the building.  It's an area with lots of bookstores, cafes and shops, busy at night and with lots of kids and families.  My husband and I finally saw something on TV about what was going on, but we were scared.  I have so many friends that might have been right there, the three blocks from my house.  We often eat there, or I go to a reading at the bookstore.  We know we live in an urban area, with lots of crime, but not like like this.  This felt like Iraq.  It made me instantly realize how spoiled we are, with our sheltered lives and security systems.  We are a hair's breath away from chaos.  We know it, but shove it to the back of our minds.  Guns.  The accessibility and culture.  We live in a country that somehow thinks they make us safer.  What a lie.  If gun control is a dirty word then life is a dirty word.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, the new president is causing a wave of citizen activity, that's for sure.  I've never petitioned, called and otherwise urged my representatives in Congress so often and so insistently.  People are attempting to make their congresspeople accountable to us.  I hope we are the sleeping giant that awoke.  Now we don't all think alike or want the same things, but we are making our voices heard, and it's refreshing.  We'd gotten lazy and indifferent, and on both sides of the political spectrum that has dissolved.  Now we see the connection between our actions and what happens to this country.  Now we see our lives are affected by what we do or don't speak up about.  No more sleep at the wheel.  Good.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I ordered something for my grandson, and they said it was on back order.  I hestitated, but the item was coming in the beginning of March, so I went ahead and ordered.  But it hasn't come.  So I phoned the company today, and learned they had sent back the items to the manufacturer, and now they might be ready at the end of next week.  I said, why didn't you email everyone that this had happened and that the item would more likely be shipped by the end of March?  I told her it would have saved a lot of phone calls and anger, to boot.  That's a good idea, she said.  Maybe they were afraid people would cancel their orders, and that would be a lot of hassle.  But now I'm betting some customers will not order again, because the communication was so poor.  This is the kind of clothing catalogue that grandmothers use, and we're an old fashioned group.  We expect courtesy and updates.  We have time on our hands.  We notice when things don't arrive in the mail.  A little right speech would soothe our ruffled feathers and keep us ordering more.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm so happy in my interactions with my grandchildren.  Their enthusiasm is contagious, and the love touches me.  My one year old grandson calls me a version of Grandma, and his face lights up when he sees me.  The three month old smiles and gurgles, and is irresistable.  And the eight year old is conversing in her emails.  Does it matter what the words are?  Not at these ages.  What is everything is the delivery.  And really, that holds partially true no matter what a person's age.  It's how we say it.  Is everything the President is saying so bad?  It is more the anger and rage and his facial expressions that belie his words.  Whatever is said coming out of anger is going to be offputting.  That is why when his one speech was measured, people sighed in relief.  It's the tweeting rants and the blaming others and grimaces that tell us he is not coming from a place of balance and perspective.  Maybe it's good we have these clues, but his mannerisms are a crash course in how NOT to communicate.  There is a disconnect between his words and intentions.  That's what is being noticed more than what he is saying.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I accompanied my daughter and grandson to visit my son-in-law to his workplace so he could show off his little son.  It was sweet witnessing his pride.  Everyone's response was as you would hope, and I know it meant a lot to him.  What it took to drive the 45 minutes there and then the same time back was a couple of crying spells, a lot of singing, and a pacifier.  Simple is not simple when it's a baby.  So I admired my daughter for wanting to please her husband, and for sitting in an office with the door closed to nurse, and to drive while I sat next to the baby in the backseat.  It's hard.  Babies are hard.  Luckily, these parents adore him and are dedicated to his welfare, but even then, sometimes a lot of deep breaths are necessary.  Before we left for the trip, the baby had a meltdown at our house, and pooped in his striped outfit, and had to try to nap and nurse.  She was exhausted before we got in the car.  Right speech is talking with her and reminding her what a great mom she is, and how she needs to get a break more, and that being frustrated and upset is natural.  Nothing makes demands on you like a baby.  My witnessing I hope makes it easier for her to accept that sometimes she's just DONE.  She knows I know, after four kids, exactly how it feels.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Tomorrow is an action for women where we don't shop or work, if possible.  I'm going to wear red and do what I can, but I have an eye injection, so I'm going to be at the doctor's for that.  I'll do what I can, because it's up to each of us to be the change we want to see.  I'll also wear my button that says:  nevertheless, she persisted.  I just got it in the mail last night.  It feels better to be doing these small actions than to be complaining.  Maybe they didn't notice me before, but I'm a squeaky wheel now!  I have been active in issues all my life, and not doing much in recent years didn't feel like "me".  Now I'll hope that enough of us women can raise our voices loud and long enough to be heard.  We're defending not only ourselves, but women all over the world.  We are important and should be valued.  Our childraising alone should guarantee us a seat at the table.  Listen to us.  We know what matters and what is important to pursue.  Safety, opportunity for all, fairness and compassion.  Listen.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend's mother, who lives with her, broke her elbow, and has surgery scheduled tomorrow.  I admire my friend's devotion her her mom, and adore the mom myself.  I'm not sure I'd love the responsibility and worry and the mom's inherent negativity, but it looks good from the outside, as I lost my mother when I was forty.  It's the time for my friend when, as her mother is in her nineties, more effort and care will be required, though a lot of us are willing to help and have helped in the past by taking her to doctor's appointments, out to lunch and checking on her.  Luckily, my friend lives with a kind, compassionate man who is happy to do things for her mother, and enjoys her company.  He's retired, so he has availability as well.  My friend is still working full time.
I want to help them through this passage, and what that will be is fluid.  I'm also about to undertake the care of my grandson five days a week, which is challenging.  The young and the old:  they need our vigorous support and love.  And we do unto others as we would hope others would do for us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It rained hard all night, which gets me jumpy about our roof, since we have a weak spot in our area between our bedroom and the bathroom, and also we have no idea what's going on at our cabin, with all the wind and rain and snow.  Today is gloriously sunny, but this morning my husband said he thought he heard the thud of a tree falling in the night.  Not too close by, but maybe on the next street.  We've had two huge trees do just that recently.  Too much drought, then too much rain.  I also think last night my mind was balancing between things dark and mysterious and threatening and the hope that all will be well because I'd just finished "Lincoln in the Bardo" by George Saunders.  It's an incredible balancing act itself, describing the grief of Lincoln for his dead son Willie, the ghosts in the cemetary who can't quite accept that they are dead and fully let go of this world, and the almost unbearable beauty of this world and the love we find in it.  Abraham Lincoln's love for his son is enobling and ordinary, wrenching and healing.  His sense of guilt and being unable to rise to the demands of being President and the Civil War are balanced with his deep, profound understanding of the grief of all the families who lost and are losing their sons in this war.  His ability to be conduit for slaves and the lost and innocent is what made him persevere.  His loss allowed compassion to bloom and grow in his weary soul. 
We hold the dark and light of this world in our consciousness, and if we do not block out one or the other, we remain truly alive, awake, aware, and able to take actions that help ourselves and others.  That is the blessing hidden in grief.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I were having a discussion yesterday and somehow I mentioned I was more comfortable with friends who were from a blue collar background as I was.  I said thirty years ago a group of us women formed a support group comprised of women who were the first in their family to go to college, and we had all put ourselves through by working.  It felt so  immediately safe in that group.  We were supposed to jump class by our education, but we had been overwhelmed and confused.  Our parents wanted us to have a college degree, but they also had a kind of contempt and distrust of education.  The situation estranged us from our families.  I noted that most of my friends are from the working class, and those are the people I feel "get" me.  I didn't do this consciously, but I trust someone with that backdrop more. 

I realize I've been judging people, sizing them up, because I want to stay in my safe, familiar zone, and it's long past time to be more open and fairer to those I meet who might become close, if not for my prejudice.  I've got a little bit of Elizabeth Bennet still inside me, and it's time to let go.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've just had a delightful afternoon discussing "News of the World" by Paulette Jiles.  It's a wonderful evocation of a time after the Civil War starring a 71 year old man who reads newspapers to audiences who can't read and don't have news reach them.  He agrees to take a white ten year old girl who has been a Kiowa captive for four years back to her aunt and uncle.  They have amazing adventures along the way, going from northern Texas to Hill Country, and in the process learn to love and respect each other.  It is wise and poetic and funny and sad.  We have a window into another time and place, but it shows us our world today equally well.  Talking about our favorite parts and lines and scenes we glowed with enthusiasm and appreciation for a beautifully wrought work.  Just speaking aloud the gratitude for the author and her skill was joyous.  I might have to read the book again!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been thinking a lot about how a beautiful place can have bad memories intertwined, in such a way as to spoil the love, or at least complicate it.  I loved where we lived in Virginia when I was a child.  Our house was embraced on two sides by woods, and it was a bike ride to the Rappahanock River.  I loved the gentle seasons and especially the violets and daffodils popping up on the hillside in spring.  Yet it was a segregated place when I was a kid, and it was my dad's job to integrate the plants in the south.  We were outsiders, we were the only family without a black maid, we were troublemakers.  I knew a lot of what I heard and saw was wrong.  I knew to keep my mouth shut, but I judged others silently.  I was there from eight to fourteen, and didn't return for over fifty years.  And when I did, though the rural area was basically unchanged, I didn't find it as lovely as in my memory.  Part of it was the hate signs by the side of the road driving to Richmond, reviling our black President.  Another was the talk of Grant being a drunk and Lee a saint.  The Confederate flags didn't help, either.  And several times I had to listen to racist comments about the necessity of slavery, and the arguments about "the North".  Words hurt, color everything, and change what you see and feel.  Words have separated me from a lovely setting which still is sullied with hate.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend came over yesterday to see my daughter and grandson, and I was touched by the delicacy with which she asked my daughter about her delivery and what it was like to be a new mom.  She shared her feelings when she had her first child (and at the same age) and was so gentle and supportive.  This is a woman who was formerly not known for her tact, but she has evolved into a personification of loving kindness.  I've known her for thirty years, and feel blessed to have witnessed her growth and change.  There were times in the past when I moved far away from her to protect myself, as she seemed so self involved and oblivious to others.  I'm glad I hung in there.  She has taken up Buddhism and goes on retreats and sees the same teacher I do.  Maybe that is part of the change.  It's wonderful to see, and yesterday she was my teacher in how to relate to a young woman during a seismic change called motherhood.