Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I took a brisk walk with a dear friend this morning.  I feel good because my older daughter sent two photos yesterday and she's feeling better and was able to hike with her boyfriend.  I also can plan for her daughter's grandparent trip with us in June.  The sun is out and though the drought is eating away at us underneath, things look good.  My friend and I exchange books and it's fun to share with her, as we generally like the same writing.  I'd lent her a SciFy book, Good Morning, Midnight, and she and her husband really enjoyed it.  I don't read much SciFy.  I do love Ursula Le Guin, Sherri Tepler, and Octavia Butler, and once in a while I come across something, like Station Eleven, that I adore.  But I'm more of a mystery gal.  I love the little lending libraries on almost every block, where you can take a book or add one.  I often stop and see what's inside, though I seldom take anything.  I'm trying to whittle down my bookshelves, and donate to a no-kill animal shelter.  It's been surprisingly difficult to let go of books I'll never read again, either because I have fond memories of who I was when I read it, or because I know it's an important book.  But really, nobody has hired me to preserve the literary legacy of humanity.  And my kids have such eclectic tastes and don't necessarily want to read them.  But I have categories I do keep:  my very favorite writers, African American writing, Hispanic writing, Asian writing, South Asian writing, feminist books, Buddhist books, and Native American books.  Those take up one room, and then, well, the art books.  They fill another room.  Yes, definitely, some culling of the books is a fine idea.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My younger daughter since a video of her one year old chasing a pigeon.  The pigeon knew with whom he was dealing and just kept up a zigzag path and our grandson determinedly followed.  My daughter said it was a good way for him to get exercise.  I said let me know if he catches one.  My grandson was happy and the pigeon, well, you couldn't see him chuckling, but you could imagine it.  I can see it becoming a metaphor for much of what we do in life.  We want to catch and capture something.  But it's illusive, just beyond our reach.  And really, the chasing is the point.  No possession of the being is possible, but we don't quite get it.  We're doing our thing, they are doing theirs.  If we stopped, then what?  Worth contemplating.  Jane Goodall just sat; she watched but she didn't chase, and the chimpanzees came to her.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a gloomy day, and no rain to boot.  But yesterday was warm and sunny.  I walked to a favorite bookstore and looked for books for my friend's two year old granddaughter.  I love children's books.  When I was a kid there were few books:  nursery tales, fairy tales, the Pokey Little Puppy.  Later there were the Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew.  When I was nine and had tuberulosis, my mother read the Encyclopedia Brittanica's Children's Classics, including Treasure Island, Black Beauty, Robinson Crusoe and Lamb's Shakespeare's Tales.  My love of reading began then.  It is such a treat that my grandchildren have all these amazing, beautiful, funny books to read.  I'm enchanted by them myself.  Well, except for Harry Potter, which my granddaughter loves but I cannot abide.  With the two little grandsons we're still doing cardboard books mostly, in case a urge to snack on a book occurs.  They both love flap books and peek-a-boo and the older adores the silliness of Dr. Seuss.  I returned from my outing with four books I'd never heard of or read, and promptly sat down to peruse them before boxing them up to mail.  The colors, the imagination, the delight!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday we went with a friend to a memorial service for someone we'd once been close to but now hadn't seen in years.  My intention was to honor her life, and our years being friends, but I became detached and unemotional.  I didn't open my heart.  Afterward, when my husband and I were home alone, he said he'd been similarly unmoved.  And I realized no one in the room had been crying, except perhaps the immediate family, and that the atmosphere was something we were feeling and reacting to.  It was strange, and we both felt like "bad" people.  I had always been sympathetic to this person's challenges in life and her horrible childhood, yet at the service it felt like very old news.  There was praise from coworkers and her sisters.  But it felt like something was left out, as if there were several elephants in the room.  We couldn't mourn her properly because she wasn't portrayed as human.  She was perfect.  And as that was not the woman I knew and loved, I think I shut down.  What I'd assumed would be a healing ritual didn't appear to be so for the people who attended.  It was a perfect service, but that organization shut us out when we should have been embraced.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I read an article in the newspaper this morning about two black bears whose paws were badly burned in the Thomas fire and a veternarian was treating them with tilapia.  Not for eating.  She sewed the fish skins on their paws because it's soothing and helps collagen to produce on the paws for healing.  She also wrapped their paws in corn husks and other edible stuff just in case.  Bears will eat anything.  Neither bear tried to rip off the tilapia and she was able to change the dressings in 12 days.  There was a photo of one of the bears lying on it's side, covered with a blanket.  Their paws hurt so much they couldn't stand, and the vet was worried the female bear, who was pregnant, would reject the cub if it was born in captivity, so there was an urgency to the task.  The story said the bears seemed to understand that the humans were helping them and did not resist the treatment.  Compassion across species is always cause for rejoicing.  And I pray these two bears get back to the wilderness and live out their lives.  There is good news if you search for it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we took our thirteen month old grandson to the pet store for the second time.  He loved the two bunnies and there were two cats this time, and he still adores the birds.  They have gorgeous colored feathers and some are huge and talk.  Then we took him to the toy store for the first time.  They have a train table there, so he was in heaven.  An older boy came around, and was startled when our grandson took the engine he was holding.  His mother said to him, "he's just a baby".  "Yes," I added, "he's clueless about sharing, I'm sorry".  Our grandson, oblivious, was luckily distracted by a fire engine on the shelf.  My husband picked out a simple wooden track set, I purchased it, and we headed back home.  Now we have a modest bridge, and two small circles of track to go with our little trains.  It's satisfying to my husband, who seems to enjoy setting it up whenever our grandson is here.  The broken piece of track in the old circle track was haunting him.  Now we have sturdier track, a complete track, and his mind is soothed.  Our grandson?  He stomps around like Godzilla and was the cause of the piece being broken.  Order is has no appeal to him.  He is all impulse.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm seeing my therapist today.  I only see her occasionally, and I canceled the last appointment because I felt I was doing well.  The holidays were good and I was excited about the days getting longer, lots of plans with friends, and the new year thing, which always lifts my spirits.  But today I'm fearful of our daughter's treatment and how it's going.  The big unknown.  Having her far away is so difficult and it means deliberate visits, not any kind of checking in casually.  I have to sit with this fear here while she sits with it there.  I want to DO SOMETHING, but what?  Praying doesn't seem like enough.  I trust my daughter's ferociousness.  Yet she must be so tired of fighting and feeling not well and thinking about how to continue living a normal life in an abnormal situation.  My heart is cracked open with love and pain and fear.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a gray morning and rain is supposed to arrive by noon.  We all want it to come, because we fear a climate like Capetown, South Africa, where there is no more water.  We are 60% of normal so far this year, and potential fires fan our fears.  So every dampness and cloud is encouraging.  There are always fears.  I jump from scary place to scary place, and I have to wonder if the scary movies up for Oscars are a result of a rising tide of fear.  "Get Out" is a horror movie, but so is "Three Billboards", and "Shape of Water is a remake of an old horror film, and "Phantom Thread" is the horror story of a Faustian bargain in a marriage.  If you add "Blade Runner 2049", which is up for other categories, but is future dread personified, then my mood is actually part of the geitgeist.  The horror is the new normal.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our writing group met last night and we shared our writing, wrote a quick-write, shared that as well and then discussed a former member rejoining our group.  We all want her back, and after her wife's death, she is wishing for the connection as well.  We'd have to change nights, and redo the calendar, but we're of a mind to bring her back into our fold.  One member and I had been to a reading on Sunday, by two authors who've written a book about mothers and their middle aged daughters, and we decided to give a little "report" on the reading and questions and what excited us about the event.  Sharing reading is a big part of what our group does, and the others were enthusiastic about the book and what it says.  As we said goodbye, we were like reinforced buildings, ready to withstand the earthquakes of life and stand firm and tall.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I made a birthday dinner for a friend last night.  When we sat down to eat I realized I had an orange color theme.  There was a salad brimming with cava oranges, a navel orange and a pink grapefruit and an orange cake with orange frosting.  The fish had a sauce that was bright green with cilantro and coconut milk, and the only neutral dish was quinoa.  It was rainy and dismal yesterday, so I think I intuitively wanted to brighten things up.  I picked out yellow flowers for the table as well.  Color can certainly change my mood, and automatically adjusted the atmosphere in these subtle ways to make the meal warm and inviting.  When we were eating the cake I laughed at myself and consciously noted the orange theme to my husband and friends.  How we respond to simple tasks is interesting.  Ever the optimist, I cheered myself up as I shopped and cooked.  I am a funny creature!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went on the Women's March today with my husband, older son, daughter-in-law and two year old grandson.  The grandson liked the bubbles.  There were great signs, including:  It's so bad even introverts are out marching.  There were inspiring speeches.  There was an emphasis on electing women to Congress.  Many pink hats, including one I'd knitted for myself this week.  Will it make a difference?  Are we galvanized?  Time will tell.  A lot of signs were about our daughters and granddaughters, but as my daughter-in-law pointed out, we march for our sons and grandsons as well, so that they might live in a world where equal respect is a given.  I won't see that day, but maybe they will. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took our grandson to the nearby pet store today for the first time.  He first admired the bunny, then a huge black cat, then another bunny.  We moved on to the fish, then the birds.  He calls them brrrrrr.  A parrot kept saying hello then hi, but he was especially intriugued with the black and white finches with spots on their wings.  Birds are very social, and when I used to bring my foster granddaughter in, she was glued to the bunnies while I talked to all the birds.  Probably the highlight of the stroll was a firetruck, though, sirens roaring down the street.  He is a little boy.  He kept taking off his knit cap, and I kept putting it back on until I gave up and pulled the hood of his coat over his head.  He can't get that off.  It was cold for us, and as we were two houses from our home rain began, though it had been sunny when we set off.  He was relieved to shed his jacket and picked up a wooden firetruck and made the sound effects accurately.  He has quite the operatic voice at times!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend told me yesterday she'd seen the obituary of a mutual friend in the paper.  She pulled over and I read it.  This woman used to be very important in my life for many years.  Then she moved away from her friends here and tried to forget her own problems by plunging herself into work.  I had been supportive for many years, and when I needed support, I called her and she told me she just didn't have it in her to be there for me.  I was devastated.  But her family problems were horrendous and sometimes we can't muster the will to do what we ought.  I gradually came to the realization that her wounds were deep and I could not help her in any way or she me.  But I heard how she was doing from time to time and my husband and I ran into her husband last year and "caught up".  He said she was in a walker and not doing well.  She was three years younger than me.  Her diabetes was torturing her.  He did not say where they'd moved or encourage any communication, so we were left with a bittersweet feeling of what we'd been to each other and now no longer were.  I'll go to the memorial service, and try to appreciate the years we were friends, and I bring away the lesson of not being able to "fix" anything except myself.  She deserved a better life than she had, it was unfair what she went through, and I couldn't change a thing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading a terrific mystery series by Nicci French.  The author is actually a married couple, and perhaps that explains some of the density and complexity of plot and characterization.  The central character is Frieda Klein, a psychotherapist, who has flaws of her own and amazing intuition and ability to see beyond what people say and do to the heart of the matter.  Her compassion is close to a detriment, as she focuses on seeking out the truth to the detriment of her safety.  She's also struggling with her own tormented past and developing a relationship with a man.  In all this she compells us, because she IS us.  The darkness she unveils is our own as well.
I am fortunate because I read the first in this series of six and then bought the rest and am reading them in order.  That doesn't often happen, but I now try to do that because it makes the reading and experience so much richer.  Here is how engaged I am:  yesterday afternoon before dinner I finished the third book and in bed last night I began the next, eager to see how my characters are getting on.  My friend yesterday called me the great reader, and I know my reading habit it fueled by my eye disease, as there will come a time I can't read, but more directly, my reading got me through a sometimes lonely childhood, and taught me much my parents did not know.  My personal morals I learned from books, my empathy for all cultures, peoples and creatures are also a gift.  Escape it may be, but my life has been infinitely enriched by reading.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The "me, too" slogan, if you think about it, is generally about being a woman.  If you are a little girl, the heroes presented to you are mostly male.  You observe that in your family your dad seems to have more power, especially veto power,  You are warned constantly as you grow up that you are in danger, more than your brothers, and you have to "watch out".  You do well academically but your brothers receive all the fanfare.  You are expected to marry and have kids, but they're okay just following their dreams without interruption.  You earn less than your male counterparts.  You have to fend off aggressive males at parties, and endure catcalls and comments about your looks.  You are punished for needing time off for a baby or sick children.  It's somehow your responsibility to take the hits to your career so your husband can advance.  Your husband "helps" but you are the one figuring out childcare, schools, playdates, soccer.  You've gained weight after the babies but there is no time for gym for you.  Your husband criticizes your altered appearance.  He looks exactly the same.  It's your fault. 
And this is without a situation in which you have been assaulted, raped, battered or verbally abused.  We are all me, too because we are women in a patriarchal world.  What one of us suffers we all threatened by.  Women have not enough power in a world that abuses them.  We need to stand up for each other, then we will achieve true equality.  In the meantime, it's just semantics.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I went up to our cabin to make sure our daughter had turned off the water and sure enough, she had missed turning it off at the path.  We washed all the sheets and vacuumed and took a walk, went to a nearby pizza place for dinner and got up early yesterday to return home.  Aha!  A puddle in our road.  Something in the water line had cracked and then broken more when we did the laundry, I guess.  So, we have to find a plummer, have the road dug up and fix the pipe, which is too near the surface of the road anyway.  The culprit is the utility company that took down some dead trees and in doing so hauled huge trucks and cranes up our road, which is dirt and gravel.  But fighting that fight isn't worth it, and we still have some dead trees they aren't responsible for, so we need to get a private tree company up to take out the others, and probably before we fix the water line, as they will have trucks as well.  The cabin has been, for over thirty years, a lesson in change and going with the flow and surprise after surprise.  There is the constant threat of fire and a tree coming down on the cabin, and as the cabin is historical, that means everything is deteriorating faster than we can fix it.  It's hard work having a cabin, and often your vision of reading a book by the fire or sitting on the deck staring at the lake is interrupted by, well, reality.  Nothing has mellowed me as much as this cabin:  fragile, undependable, yet in a sublime setting which is also constantly changing.  Now we have a much expanded view of the lake, due to all the dead trees around being cut down.  So a sadness becomes a beauty, and that beauty is changing minute by minute.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As I was opening the shutters on our bedroom window, a saw two tiny birds, who looked like Chickadees, finding tasty bits in the gutter about two feet below the window.  What joy to watch them unobserved, and feel that a clogged gutter was actually aiding birds in their search for food.  Would I have felt the same if it had been crows?  I hope so, as I profess to be fascinated with crows.  I know they are my neighbors, and I seldom leave the house without them greeting me by the garage or in the parkway across the street.  I have a friend whose front yard is crowded with bird feeders, and she has a picture window that allows her to watch them to her heart's content.  She lives on the east coast, so she sees Cardinals and Bluebirds that we don't have here.  I found it hypnotic to sit comfortably deep in a chair and just admire the variety and activity of these birds.  Here I must go outside and actively search, but that has it's blessings as well.  We've had rain, and that brings worms and insects out in the open and creates a mardi gras for the winged ones.  I'm happy for them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

All the hoopla about Oprah, though I'm certainly an admirer, is to me another distraction.  Celebrities can't save us, witness our current chief celebrity.  Many of us want a woman president, but one with honed skills and a proven track record.  Congress is like going into the lion's den, and we can't push an optimistic novice into the arena.  Has our cult of celebrity gotten so out-of-control that we can't see that there is a governmental structure that needs fixing, not circumvented?  And I'm sick of the popular idea that success in business means the person has any idea how to govern.  The public bought the idea of bringing corporations into school districts and that was a catastrophe.  Education is not a business, and governing is not a business.  There is a lot of money in the latter right now, so I can see how it's confusing.  Take the money out of government:  the bribes, the lobbyists, the astronomical campaign costs, and see what happens.  The leeches go away, and rationality not bottom line greed will go away.  It may take decades, but we need to make governing about concern for the people again, not ego.  Even small steps toward that goal will be wise.  But we don't need our own Prince William and Kate.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw "The Post" yesterday, and the film won me over, because it focused on a woman and her struggle to come out from under the shadow of the patriarchy.  Meryl Streep was extraordinary, and Tom Hanks was convincing as Ben Bradley.  It was a wake up about what is at stake with freedom of the press, namely that they can and should act as our watchdogs to the power of government.  Currently, most of the mainstream press is focused on Trump's tweets, instead of informing and enlightening us.  They are being led by the nose by those in power, and are neglecting the task of illuminating the dark corners of government.  Hopefully, the powers that be are shaken by the rising up of voices in the "Me, too" movement, and will attempt more transparency.  There are no secrets in 2018.  The internet has made certain of that.  But wading through the ocean of bits and details is beyond any of us.  We need watchdogs more than ever.  Let's give them biscuits and pats on the head.  They make our checks and balances work and keep us, the voters, in the loop. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I feel renewed from a Buddhist retreat I participated in this weekend, and also from seeing my husband sing in his chorus.  I am reminded of my vows, and my resolve to expand my compassion and love for all sentient beings.  I also am determined to look inside myself more deeply and discover the dark places which are inside all beings.  Finding my humanity, in fact.  Instead of judging others, I will feel their suffering.  When we are unaware, our own suffering touches others, and so I am struggling to be awake and aware with my words and deeds.  It might seem like the retreat and concert were opposites, but the chanting and singing we did in the retreat expanded into chorus and orchestra in the concert.  They sang pieces from Rachmonioff, and the passion and power of the music sent chills up and down my spine, especially the selections from "Romeo and Julliet".  It was as if the soul was singing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was raining today, for which we are grateful, but it meant I could not take my grandson out for a stroll or to the park as usual.  He was happy enough inside, trying out his walking, and going from toy to book to toy.  He is saying words:  birdie, dump (for dump truck), and granp.  He converses in very realistic sounding baby talk as well.  Sound effects he has mastered.  He likes reading the same book over and over and over again.  He loves blueberries and pickles.  So I can snack him if I need him to stay still a minute.  We played upstairs, we played downstairs.  We listened to the Wiggles and danced.  I'm exhausted, but in the best possible way.  I intend to settle down with a snack and a book myself soon.  And probably fall asleep tonight before ten.  A day well spent!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We were awoken before dawn by an earthquake.  I checked downstairs and nothing was broken.  Our daughter texted and I replied.  I lay down again, my mind racing.  Nothing to do, really.  I fell asleep and got up over five hours later.  The epicenter was extremely close, and since a couple of weeks ago, when we went to a party and earthquakes came up in the conversation, disturbing.  Though what we fear is the fire that might result from a big quake.  We have our supplies in our garage on the street, and I was wondering if that was a good place, and realizing again the need to refill our water container.  I'm not super prepared.  I admit it.  And currently I have absolutely no cash, as is the norm.  I end up spending it.  Yesterday I was so happy it was raining, today I worry about another quirk of nature.  All the expenditure of energy is wasted:  what will happen will happen, and not a doggone thing to do about it.  I'm going to the movies today and even that creeps me out.  Will a quake trap me in the building?  Stay tuned.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It did rain today, not enough, not much, but still.  The earth here is so parched every drop helps.  I signed up for a retreat this weekend.  It's within walking distance and seemed like an opportunity that should not be passed up.  I realize I would like to do more and different retreats this year.  Nothing fancy or far away, but just maybe hearing different voices.  My Buddhist swim buddy listens online, and although I do it occasionally, I don't have a study group like she does anymore, and I'm missing the group.  I left for sound healthy reasons, but there may be other things to try.  I also could go back to my teacher's temple more often.  It seems like I'm making a new year's resolution as I write this.  And not a bad one at that.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's cloudy today and we're all praying for rain in our drought ridden state.  The endless sunny weather is disconcerting at this time of year.  Strange days.  We watched an old movie last night for the new year, but one with heartfelt sentiments:  "Jack and Sarah".  Richard E. Grant plays a man with a wife he adores, a baby on the way, a great job and a house being remodeled.  Suddenly, life reverses itself and his wife has died in childbirth, and he has no interest in the baby girl.  We watch him grieve and fall apart, come to life, grow up and finally embrace love again after learning it from his baby.  Yes, life throws twists and sometimes daggers, but love makes it all worth it.  Old fashioned, but still true.  We couldn't watch some of the unsafe handling of the baby.  Very outdated and scary to watch now:  no one is holding her head and neck, bumpers in the crib, bouncy chairs on counters, leaning way out in a snuggli type carrier.  Good grief!  But she survives, meaning the baby actors, and anyway it's always a bit of a risk, this raising children thing.  You've got to have the luck with you.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I began the New Year at my daughter's house, babysitting, and when I woke up at home this morning my dear husband had saved the Rose Bowl Parade for me to watch, and we settled down with raisin bran and cheerios to ooh and aah, with my husband skipping every break, so I didn't have to watch any commercials.  Then we showered and went for a walk, enjoying the exercise and the greetings of strangers.  Simple is best.  I am happy that the days are getting longer, the moon was extraordinary last night, I have nice plans this week.  Yesterday morning I listened to my teacher's dharma talk and his wise advice has stuck with me:  more love, more compassion, more meditation, and risk looking inside myself at the darkness present.  I feel guided by the right resolutions, namely, my vows.  I look forward to enjoying my wonderful family and friends, learning about new things, being in nature, and just treasuring each precious moment.  Simple is best.