Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I saw the Russian director Tarkovsky's 1986 film "The Sacrifice" last week.  It was long and slow moving, with long shots and a mystery about it.  It's dated in some ways, but still thought provoking and haunting.  A famous actor and writer is planting a tree with his young son, who is recovering from a throat operation and cannot yet speak.  The man, Alexander, is a chatterbox, and tells a Zen story about a monk who seems to accomplish little in his life, but has a ritual of watering a tree every day.  The point being that the ritual itself is his achievement.  Alexander seems to have only words to offer his silent son.  That and his clearly passionate love.  They return to the house where his wife, stepdaughter and the doctor who is a friend are, and eventually an annoucement on the television seems to mean there has been a nuclear war and the earth is being destroyed.  Alexander prays to God.  He will do anything to save his family, including never seeing his beloved son again.  A postman who is a friend has stopped by and tells Alexander of a good witch, who is their servant.  He goes to her and she takes pity on him and they unite physically elevated above the floor.  When he returns the next day, all is as if the threat of war had never been.  Alexander sends everybody off to look for the son and burns down the house.  An ambulance comes and men grab Alexander and take him to a mental facility.  He has kept his promise.  But was everything a dream?  I'm struck by how words don't have any weight, only Alexander's actions matter.  Men have only their actions to guide their children.  Very existential, but profound as well.  Right speech, according to Tarkovsky, must be supported by right action.  At the end of the film, the boy is watering the tree he and his father have planted at the beginning.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's been one of those mornings when I feel disoriented and scattered.  I "need" to do about ten things and am interrupted enough that nothing gets done.  My husband and I were going for a walk but phone calls, texts and information kept having to be addressed.  I'm going to quit soon and concentrate on the walk.  Hopefully that can be accomplished without further input.  Last night I had a restless sleep, partly because I sat too much yesterday.  We had a meeting over an hour away, and somehow that meeting went on two and a half hours and then with the drive back I felt as if I'd been out of state.  Five hours.  My body was unhappy.  Miserable.  When my body gets mistreated everything unravels.  Moving, like walking meditation, soothes my ragged nerves.  Come to think of it, I awoke this morning with the crows making a racket like construction work.  I love them, but they've driven all the other birds away, and seem to have angry conferences in our backyard trees.  They jangled me from the get-go.  With luck, the sun and rhythm of walking will settle me down. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday my husband and I spent with our older son, his wife and their two year old.  We had fun, and it's lovely to bask in the adoration of a two year old grandson.  My heart just cracks open at his enthusiasm for our visit.  We did simple activities, and strolled the neighborhood in the "Bee" stroller I'd brought up, which for some reason our grandson finds magical.  It was cheap at Target, but the black and yellow stripes enchant him.  He pointed out flowers and trees and we played peekaboo from the back of the stroller.  He's full of energy and joy, just bursting with love of his life, his parents, and the world.  Seeing the world through his eyes is like a tonic.  So many beautiful things all around us:  a bird in a tree, pink and white tulip tree petals on the sidewalk, a dog's golden fur waving as he's walked by his owner.  His eyes are big because he takes in all he sees, and it's a full, comprehensive view.  There are no barriers between him and the world.  It's all one big throbbing organism.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

So many situations require a fine balance, and with my friend right now, I know she is in pain, and I have held off visiting her at the hospital for that reason.  But now I'm wondering if I should have just showed up at some point later this week and at least waved at her.  I wanted to respect her privacy and have been texting her husband to get updates, but maybe she would like to see me.  I'm back and forth about it.  I don't think anyone expected her to stay in the hospital this long, and I have not sent flowers because every day she was possibly going home.  I hope she knows I'm thinking of her and supporting her, and I believe that to be the case, because if I've called her room at the hospital her husband picks up the phone and she is obviously right there.  Protocol is murky, and I'm erring on the side of respecting her privacy.  I hope they find what is causing her pain.  At least they've checked off a lot of the most dire causes.  I've got to exercise my patience.  I'll know when she wants me to know.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We are going up this weekend to see our older son, daughter-in-law and grandson.  I'm gathering some things I've found to take up to give him.  I remembered our granddaughter at his age and also my foster granddaughter, and they enjoyed board games.  There are some for really little kids, and the best are by Peaceable Kingdom, because they are cooperative games, not adversarial.  I found one in my drawer and bought one at the local toy store.  The participants in the game work together for the goal, for example, puppies in their doghouses.  The real purpose at the toddler level is to follow the rules and take turns.  Two skills many adults have not yet mastered.  I remember my granddaughter had one about picnics and another about having tea.  So perhaps there is a subtle nudge towards manners, or as fogeys like me say, civility.  I hope our grandson has fun with these games.  I'm bringing up my foster granddaughter's old Winnie the Pooh memory game as well.  Both she and our granddaughter could beat me at that game, and their thrill and triumph made it worth playing, as we did, again and again and again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I walked with my friend this morning.  It was cold, and we were bundled up in a way we seldom do, but the sun was shining and we were brisk.  We "catch up" in this way, though she is busy teaching and our schedules often conflict.  It is our determination to keep this friendship going that I appreciate.  We raised our kids together and have done many holidays together as well.  She knows me and our politics agree.  We were talking about marching for gun control March 8.  We want to participate.  She is a teacher and I have grandchildren, so the urgency is apparent.  We were noting that right now it seems like there are two kinds of people:  the bullies and the people with civility and respect for neighbors.  The former have the podium and the later are stunned at the decline of public dialogue and private consideration of others.  But surely most people want children to be safe.  Surely.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just took a call that my friend is in the hospital.  I was talking on the phone with her last night, and I noticed she was confused and couldn't keep her train of thought.  I guess in the middle of the night her husband called an ambulance and she's being tested at the hospital.  I can't help but fear a stroke.  They are doing all the right tests, and hopefully it's a medication problem or something easily remedied.  I felt last night that maybe she had had a couple of drinks, and that and her longtime friends' son's death plus her daughter's dog's amputation would account for the confusion.  Grief is a slog that blurs the mind and I am no doctor, but now I wish I'd tried to talk to her husband last night.  Hopefully, she's in good hands today and whatever it is will be resolved.  I pray so.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My teacher, Anam Thubten, said in his dharma talk yesterday that spontaneous joy is something to practice.  Joy from the heart, without reason or justification.  This kind of joy comes from an open heart without judgement or questioning; a release of mind to allow the heart to respond.  When I heard him, I felt freed.  Free from having to justify joy when something bad is happening in the world or in my personal life.  Joy from being fully awake in the moment does not need explanation or reasons.  A spider web being stuck on my robe sleeve this morning exhilarated me with the spider's inventiveness.  The white blossoms of the rodadendron in our back garden was an estatic moment.  The taste of a champagne mango I peeled and cut up at breakfast was a little hit of heaven.  Our moods and feelings are mercurial, and pretending we are one thing, be it sad or happy, is false.  The joy is in living, in being alive, and treasuring this too brief gift while we can experience it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with two friends and the mass of people seeing "Black Panther" movie.  It was delightful and inspiring.  A great entertainment.  That it featured local people was a bonus.  Ryan Cogler has come a long way from "Fruitvale Station".  As we said afterwards, all people trace their ancestry to Africa and it felt exhilarating to join the multiracial, multiethnic crowd and be as one.  It also was important that weapons were seen as not the solution to social justice.  Resources were put mainly to good uses, to heal and advance society.  It was thrilling to see Angela Bassett and Forest Whitaker as elders, and just that elders were honored in the traditional way. 
Afterward, we ate Indian chaat and felt that we'd seen something that was inspiring for kids to see for a change.  Like "Wonder Woman" last year, new voices were heard loud and clear.  It's about time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I are both a bit afraid of our new car.  I drove it today, while he was the passenger, and I made him jump several times.  We're both nervous we will scratch it, and the panel and navigation system is hard to get used to.  We made it back home fine, but we may need valium to drive.  It didn't help me that he was fooling with the sound system and I didn't help him by not stopping immediately in the garage when a huge red BRAKE light came on.  We are both recuperating now.  He's doing his puzzle and I'm, well, I'm venting.  I wish cars would last forever so I didn't have to go through this process!  And for someone like myself, not at all computer savvy, the bells and whistles are terrifying.  Just finding the emergency break was stressful.  Some things are in the same place, but some are not.  Let's face it, I'm an old fogey.  The back of my car ought to have a sign warning:  OLD FOGEY ON BOARD. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our grandson, the younger one, a little over a year, is experiencing an explosion of language.  Every day he knows many new words.  Today he said girl, boy, tractor, rock, cop (helicopter) and more.  He doesn't seem to tackle any s words, like sheep, but he can baaa with the best of them.  No sentences yet, but he follows instructions so well, when he chooses, that we know his vocabulary is expanding rapidly.  His intelligence is firing on all cylinders.  It's great to witness, just as seeing the two year old grandson Tuesday and Wednesday dealing with complex sentences and ideas was exciting.  The mind is an amazing thing, though the heart is what truly blows me away.  They love passionately and with absolute trust.  As we grow we get leery, but the little ones show us our Buddha nature.  They are the best of humanity.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend is facing knee surgery soon, and eager to have it done and be more active.  On the road to a surgery date her doctor discovered a blip, and she had to have further tests for that and will be checked every six months from now on.  Our bodies are surprising us at this age.  Telling us things we didn't know and in some cases would rather not.  Medicine is on the cusp of too much information, and the way media besiege us and our computers and phones is equally relentless.  There is no going back, but it's also impossible to process all this information.  We need breathers and breaks.  On the front page of the newspaper another school shooting, but since nothing seems to affect any change, and the very real risks our children and teachers face, including my younger daughter, daughter-in-law and granddaughter, are virtually ignored.  There will be posturing, but no safety measures and no reassurance.  What do we do with this barrage of violence, and against the most innocent of us?  What has happened to the morality of our country?  At least my friend's doctor will now carefully monitor her and take some responsibility for the new condition.  Who is taking any responsibility for the safety of our children? 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went up overnight to help my son take care of my grandson.  He's recovering from pneumonia, so it's challenging to keep him occupied while not having him run around.  We managed pretty well, except neither of us could get him to take a nap.  I noticed a big leap in his ability to verbalize a story and fantasize while he's playing.  He was playing with his Thomas trains and they had a "fight".  I told him I'd never heard of trains fighting.  He ignored me and I just listened, as he developed an entire drama around the trains.  Of course the company has personified these trains heavily, by giving them names, stories, books, DVDs, and every kind of product tie-in imaginable, a la Disney.  But my grandson's story was his own, and he talked for the trains and narrated all the action.  He is two and four and a half months.  It means he can play by himself and direct his own playing.  Witnessing this development was delightful.  Imagination is so important to intelligence and empathy.  And it is our solace in times of stress or difficulty.  He's really becoming his own person.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's sunny but chilly.  We walked the reservoir yesterday, and the wind came up and the there were clouds and the temperature dropped.  It's always hard, though predictable, when we have a warm week in February and then the weather goes back to early spring.  Not much snow in the mountains and every sign of a drought this year.  So we can't feel free to be happy about the sun, and the blue skies hold an absence of rain clouds, though we search.  And yet, and yet, there are daffodils and lilies of the valley in my yard.  Camillias are bursting out all over.  Many fruit trees are in full pink or white blossom and magnolias and tulip trees as well.  The heart wants to be joyous with these signs of spring.  It IS joyful.  It's Monday, Lincoln's birthday, and I'm determined to be cheerful.  Like Scarlett, I'll think about the drought tomorrow.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We bought a new car yesterday.  It took two and a half hours to get the paperwork done and drive away in our new vehicle.  We were exhausted.  A big purchase still scares us, and we had not bought a car in eleven years.  Then our younger son helped us make room in the garage for it, as we'd had a smaller car before, and I discovered my younger daughter's stuffed animals and our son's playmobil figures.  So I was washing stuffed animals and soaking plastic cowboys and generally figuring out what was worth saving.  The house is full of little forgotten memories.  And now, with the grandchildren, I discover new uses for some of this stuff.  So a new car, ancient toys, a broken plastic bunny my kids used to ride on at my parents' house, and a beat-up croquet set promised to my older son will finally head up there, as I found the croquet balls.  Before, all I had was the mallets.  I have no lawn, not one inch, so the set is of no use here.  Repurposing, it's called, and it does feel mightily satisfying.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched "Dave" last night, and it was painful.  The bad President in it, Bill Mitchell, was very similar to our current president, but in the movie, Dave takes over and focuses on jobs and the people's needs versus his own.  After he leaves, faking the coma the real President has, the Vice President, played by Ben Kingsley, Gandhi, no less, takes the country in a good direction and passes legislation that serves the voters.  Watching it was enough to make you weep.  But maybe these days there is no way to please the public, as there is such a divide and conflicting interests.  So the film is a fairy tale, but for a couple of hours I enjoyed the fantasy!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our daughter-in-law and two year old grandson have pneumonia.  We Facetimed with them this morning and they sound pretty bad.  They are on antibiotics and home this week, but both get asthma, and that makes it scary.  Our daughter-in-law teaches fifth grade, and our grandson is in pre-school, so they have multiple exposures.  My husband and I are in the elderly bracket so our son warned us against coming up.  It has been a heck of a year for flus and colds.  My husband's cough from his cold lasted a month and still plagues him when he's tired or talks too much.  I am itching to help, but couldn't really help even my husband, other than keeping him supplied with kleenex and orange juice.  The days right now are warm and sunny, so it's difficult to be stuck inside.  I feel the frustration of the shut-in.  Lots of Thomas the train for our grandson and Mom on the sofa dozing.  Ah, I remember those days well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw our lawyer today.  Years go by without a visit needed, but this was a kind of goodbye, as he's retiring and we have to find another one.  This man is dear to my heart and indelibly linked to my father.  So I had a pang.  I never see people who knew my parents, because they have died or moved away or live far away.  He has guided us like a father for 32 years.  I trust him completely.  We wanted to double check that our will divides everything four ways for our kids, or if they predecease us, to their heirs.  All is in order, and we've prepared as much as we can for all the possible eventualities.  I remember when I first had a will, when I was divorced and concerned about my two toddlers.  I've been careful ever since to keep matters in order, so that whatever happens is as easy as it can be for those left to take care of things.  To me, this is part of right speech.  Making wishes and finances as clear and stressless as possible.  My parents gave me that gift, and I so appreciated it that I want to pass it on to my kids.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I went to the Post Office and mailed outfits for two of my grandchildren.  I determinedly go to the same branch each time.  Why?  Because they practice right speech.  They are friendly and helpful, try to save me money (by not doing the flat rate box if I have something light, lending tape, and a couple of times repacking for me).  I make a conscious effort to thank them and smile and wish them a good day.  They are harried, suffer a lot of verbal abuse, and these days their jobs are insecure, but they remember they are serving the public.  They have infinite patience, and they may not be Buddhists, but they are practicing the Bodhicitta way.  I have another mailing store closer to me, but I'm faithful to the place that embodies civility and kindness.  It's a little thing.  But life is the little things.  And civility seems to be in short supply these days.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We watched Gandhi last night.  We certainly weren't about to see the Super Bowl.  I wouldn't allow my kids to play football, but the longer I live, the more I realize my brother may have been permanently impacted by his high school football career.  My mother was against his playing but my father prevailed.  Of course, in those days the public did not understand the damage and violence of the sport and the effect on the brain.  But my brother had scars and a bad knee the rest of his life.  He was heavily recruited for college football:  more than twenty full scholarships.  But he was turned off by the offers of apartments, cars, women and cash.  It disgusted him.  He turned them all down.  Now I see a connection between football and his attempt to kill himself at sixteen.  Had he already experienced brain damage?  No one even thought of it.  He killed himself several years ago and we'll never know if his was alcohol fueled, depression driven or there was an added dimension from all the brutal hits and concussions.  His high school coach went on to coach the Vikings.  The coach pushed these kids, with brains that wouldn't be fully developed for another ten or twelve years to "be a man" and "buck up".  You got up off the field bleeding and went right back in the game.  Is my brother one of those innocent victims of a brutal culture?  I feel he is.  Football should be banned.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a reunion at my house of a religions of the world group that met once a month for ten years.  It's been twelve years since we've met, although I've seen everyone since at groups, parties and in the neighborhood.  Some are my closest friends.  It felt so good to eat, talk and share our lives again, and I was moved deeply.  These women are absolute treasures to me.  We've all had challenges to face and live complicated lives.  We are indominitable.  Their strength shores up mine.  We shared pictures from this year's women's march.  We told grandchild stories, we cried, we laughed.  I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such friends.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading a book by Mark Epstein, the psychiatrist and Buddhist, about the Eightfold Path vows, and last night I read about Right Speech.  He was focusing on what we tell ourselves, the stories we tell ourselves that perpetuate denial or myths.  I'd never thought of right speech in that way, but it makes sense that our lying to ourselves is probably the most harmful.  I've discovered, over the years, many instances of that avoidance of the truth by walking meditation, mainly.  I blamed myself for decades about the circumstances of my first marriage, because I didn't want to be a person who had been duped and tricked into marriage.  It was too humiliating.  I had a story going about how "outgoing" I was, but now know I was terribly shy underneath, especially because we moved place to place and I knew no one in the beginning.  I've felt guilty in several friendships when now I realize I was dealing with a narcissist.  Traumas at age two and age five were erased from my memory:  my beloved Uncle Brock being killed in a car crash and my falling down a full flight of basement stairs and being rushed to the emergency room, almost dying.  No wonder I have trouble with heights!  But when the true circumstances surface, however long it takes, a veil has been lifted and I can see myself more honestly and compassionately.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today our grandson wanted to go outside soon after he arrived.  I took an amble with him around the neighborhood.  We looked at the creek, the crows in the trees and stopped and were steered away from stairs.  We sat on the bench outside the grocery.  Then we returned and took him in the stroller to the toddler park nearby and he almost but not quite played with two other little boys then decided he belonged to a family whose father looks a lot like his dad.  He loved the swing.  He went down the slide with me holding his hand.  He talked and sang on the way home, I gave him his bottle, then put him down for nap and he cried.  I went back up and patted him, but he cried a couple of minutes before going down for a shorter nap than usual.  When he awoke, he was cranky and didn't want to eat much for lunch.  His whole mood had been transformed, probably because of teeth coming in, but he was not feeling tip top.  I had one little toddler, then another personality appeared.  We still had fun, but he didn't know what to do with himself.  I empathize.  It happens to me occasionally.  I can't settle, and don't want to read or walk or see a movie or call a friend.  I'm out of sorts.  Only in my case, it can't be teething.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I marched out early this morning to walk down to a bakery and order a birthday cake for our older son and his wife, who are getting their birthdays squeezed together in one celebration the way my husband and I do.  I put on my sun hat, my walking shoes, my vest and cross body bag.  My socks kept slipping down my feet and I had to stop every so often to pull them back up.  My feet wanted badly to be bare.  I do love sandals and not wearing socks.  But tis not the season.  Not yet.  Us elderly have to have a lot of gear to prevent:  skin cancer, falls, and innocent catastrophes that can occur if I am looking at a bird in a tree instead of where I'm walking.  I did a slight swoon in front of the forbidden eclairs.  I thought of brioche but bravely restrained myself.  I picked out a cake with pistachio cream.  I paid.  I will return to pick it up in two days.  The experience was almost as good as if I could actually have any bakery goods.  But no.  I'm diabetic, so admiring and imagining is what I get to do.  Today, it felt good enough, in fact, excellent.