Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to the zoo yesterday with our two little grandsons and their parents and our younger son and his wife.  The day was sunny and the animals seemed primed to be active and entertain.  The lions roared, the elephants played, the bears wrestled in their pool, and only the hynenas slept through the crowds.  My husband said today it was so wonderful to be among such a diverse group of people, of all colors and languages.  I love that all these families were out with their children, educating them about the various species on our planet.  There was a chimpanzee who sat on a rock near the cage edging, and contemplated all of us.  His look was intelligent and curious.  A mountain lion was similarly positioned right next to the public, but his look was curious about something beyond us, something that resembled prey, I bet.  We, of course,  had to ride the train, waiting almost an hour to get on, and the little fellows soaked up the engine whistle and the tunnel and the waving to people as we chugged by.  They were so exhausted that we had to call it a day and leave, and I'm sure both boys, in their cars, dreamed of bison and condors and giraffes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched the first of the Cate Blanchett movies about Elizabeth I.  We hadn't seen them in ages, and after watching Flora Dobson's masterful performance in the Errol Flynn film "SeaHawk", we wanted to see more.  On Sunday we watched the opera Roberto Devereaux, so we're on an Elizabeth I bender.  The firm holds up marvelously, and the emphasis on symbol and the visual rings valid.  Again, we see the bloody times, when people were beheaded routinely, and Elizabeth's life was at constant risk, because she carried the blood of Henry VIII.  The brilliance is especially dazzling in the scene where her advisor more or less tells her that if she takes away the Virgin Mary and other symbols of the Catholic church, then the people will be bereft unless she herself takes on that powerful role.  From the beginning of history, in pagan times, there was the Virgin who was worshipped, and it's so deep in our DNA that it's an unconscious craving in most people.  When Elizabeth cuts her hair, applies chalky cream to her skin, and adorns herself with pure white pearls, she becomes the older icon.  She had a long, successful reign because she became a deity.  We are often ruled by symbols, especially if we don't recognize them consciously.  I guess we have a hunger for authority in the non-rational part of our minds.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is supposed to be warmer than usual.  I'm a nervous wreck because I'm taking a letter to my bank protesting it's support of private facilities that keep families apart, a la the recent separation of migrant families.  I'm most worried about taking a photo of myself in front of the bank.  I'm not so good with the selfies, in fact, I never take them because the result is so hideous.  I can barely stand to see myself when I do Facetime with the grandkids.  I look so, how shall I say it?  Elderly.  Oh, dear.  Vanity never quits.  So I'm off to be a baby protester in my own way, part of a group of women doing what they can to change and make these enormous entities accountable.  Give them some moral backbone!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished reading an article in the New Republic by Rebecca Solnit.  It describes three new books about women's anger, and how the root is often compassion for victims.  We don't want to see women scorned and ridiculed for speaking their truth.  We become upset at the treatment because we've experienced it first hand.  She mentions Shirley Chisholm and how she appeared stoic in public but cried in private for the treatment she received as a presidential candidate.  She was a hero of mine and I voted for her way back when.  She had a fire about her, and if that was anger, it was righteous anger, seeing the corruption of our system of government and the the unfairness to our citizens.  But women are not supposed to express anger, and when we do, we are often punished for it verbally and physically.  Men claim ownership of anger, and it is a very effective weapon.  But it is often a weapon of the patriarchy, suppressing women's voices.  Anger for ourselves has no wholesome component, but anger for others may lead to action that is an act of compassion.  I think that is happening now with women.  We are finally protecting our gender, in a way we felt we could not protect ourselves.  We are speaking up for our daughters and granddaughters.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We saw Donzinetti's "Roberto Devereaux" yesterday, in a great production.  The whole ball of wax is Queen Elizabeth I and the soprano Rabinvesky tears apart the scenery.  Her voice is sublime, and the story so powerful that we've seen multiple versions on screen and television, and are about to see yet another film about her and Mary, Queen of Scots.  But this show focuses on the terror of having your father behead your mother when you are three years old, and seeing many fall in the grab for power.  Her fear is palpable, that if she gives over any control, to a husband perhaps, her own head may be next.  She wants to love and trust, but cannot.  She wants to live most of all, but it comes with a high cost, and at the end of this opera, she finds it too great to bear.  What a bloody world the monarchy in England was.  And even today, to be trapped inside it resembles a prison, with glass walls that expose you to the stings and barbs of the world.  I thought of Princess Diana, not allowed to love, but treated as a brood mare, and relentlessly attacked from all sides.  I even thought of Meghan Markle, now trapped in a snare that perhaps her princely husband cannot protect her from.  Who would wish it?  Not me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we go to the opera.  I'm excited for this one, which I've never seen, and the rave reviews for the soprano.  But no matter how good the production is, there is one thing that will bother me:  the inconsiderate behavior of the audience at the end of the opera.  The attendies rise not to applaud, but to leave.  They block our view of the stage as the singers come out for their bows, and rush en masse to get to their cars or parking spaces or buses or whatever.  They spoil the joy of acknowledging the hard work and splendid results of the opera.  Their needs override politeness or consideration of others, and evidently appreciation is not for them to show, as they "need" to get home or to a bar or restaurant or whatever.  That they disturb the rest of the audience is not their concern.  Our selfish culture is evident everywhere.  The "Me first" attitude is foremost.  Applauding is evidently for suckers.  What's important is getting the EDGE.  Getting ahead of other drivers or walkers.  Miss Manners would be appalled.  I am.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my husband and I went with our younger daughter and grandson to a harvest festival, tasting apples, pears and grapes, picking out pumpkins in a patch, watching our grandson in the petting area with chickens, a pig, two ducks, bunnies, and two goats.  We had lunch outside and listened to blue grass music, and then wandered over to another area where a woman was teaching two step dancing, and my grandson and I walked up on stage and joined the dance a dozen other couples.  Heel, kick, one two three back, same again, then shuffle forward one two three eight times.  He held my hand and kept up with me, never once turning away.  Clearly he was delighted, and even though he hadn't really been able to do the steps, he remembered the order, and in the car on the way home he kept saying heel, kick, back.  He was so delighted to have danced, and at twenty two months, he was amazing.  What a memory I will have of this day, his bravery, and his passion for music and dancing.  He's a regular Gene Kelly!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I bought some material and baskets last week, thinking I'd make a "pet bed" for each of my little grandsons' sleep buddies.  One has a Jellycat kitty and the other a Snoopy.  I'll make a pad in the basket and a pillow for the beloved stuffies.  And I bought some train material, perhaps for pillows, and a big swath of fleecy fabric for a blanket for the one like I've already made for the other.  Then there is the Clifford the Dog material, cat material and flannel construction trucks fabric.  I couldn't resist, and they are both young enough to enjoy the things I make.  And the act of making them, well, that is a Zen experience of sewing with love in my heart and mindfulness in every stitch.  Not as taxing as the Rakasu I made for my vows, but coming out of the same intention to pay attention and be careful.  Cuddles for my cuties!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is a mystery/sci fy bookstore really close to my house, and last year it was going out of business, as the owner couldn't make the rent.  He announced everything was 20% off, and when all the books were gone, that was it.  I dutifully came in a few times and bought many children's books and mysteries and gift books and whatever else I fancied, then saw the stock dwindle until there wasn't much I wanted, as I don't read sci fy or fantasy or horror.  I was sad, as every time I walked by, which was every day, there was the sad looking store, and I forced myself to look for mysteries at my other local bookstores in preparation for my favorite bookstore's demise.  I am determined to keep all my local bookstores alive, whatever it takes.  So months had gone by without me entering the store, when my friend told me that neighbors had come to the owner's rescue and the bookstore was resurrected!  Hallalujah!  Yesterday I went in, not daring to hope his inventory was up and current, but it was!  He has the new hardbacks.  He has older books of writers I've been searching for.  He has three inflatable dragons whose wings float up and down.  He has the Star Wars figures and Halloween ravens and ghosts and ghouls.  I bought an armload of books and marched home triumphant.  In these dark days, I need a little distraction. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Do we have to endure another hearing where the woman tells one story, the man denies it, he is championed, and she torn apart?  I don't know if I can bear it.  Has anything changed since Anita Hill?  I think we know the answer to that with the women speaking up around the Me, too movement.  She bears the trauma, she bears the shame, she hides her shame, and when she finally feels that her pain must be subsumed for the sake of the country, she is attacked, her word worth less than nothing.  Why don't women come forward and name their assailants?  Because they fear, no, they KNOW they won't be protected or believed.  They will be terrorized.  It's a system that has worked for the patriarchy for a long time, and it is invisible, at this point.  It's in the air we breathe.  Everything is UNDERSTOOD.  How can women heal without support and and validation?  Often their families don't believe them.  They don't believe themselves.  The incident seems incredible, like a bad film, and all around them voices are denying the truth of their experience.  I pray Ford has the strength and support she needs to go through this ring of fire.  And for all of us reliving our own experiences that shamed and terrified us, may be be strong and have support as well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Does it matter if a justice of the Supreme Court of the United States is a misogynist?  We shall see.  It did not matter with Clarence Thomas, though half the population is female, because half the power is not female.  It may not matter now.  Just break our hearts yet again.  Set an example for our daughters and granddaughters where they are warned that they have no truth and will never be believed over the voice of a man.  Let us be traumatized and re traumatized.  At barely eighteen, as a freshman at college, I went to a male Coop party.  A man shoved me in a room, pulled me onto the bed, and luckily, though I was five feet tall and 105 pounds, I fought him off, and grabbed the door and fled the room.  In the next room was the party with dozens of people, but no one came to my aid, and I left quickly and ran all the way back to my dorm.  I now think this room was for the purpose of "getting lucky".  This guy probably began again with another naive girl, and maybe she wasn't so lucky as I was.  I've never forgotten this incident, now over fifty years ago.  I never went to another party on campus.  I never drank more than one beer.  I was now defensive, on the lookout, and my carefree spirit changed.  I blamed myself for years, and why?  Because I wanted to meet people?  To have fun?  I'd never encountered a party in high school where I was in any danger.  I thought the world was good and I could take care of myself.  For decades now I've known better.  There is no safe for women.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with a friend yesterday to a one day prayer meeting for climate change.  We began with Native People and a drum circle and singing and prayers to the four directions.  It was powerful, standing in a meadow praying for the earth to heal and us to take action to help that happen.  There was music at points throughout the day, and an amazing array of speakers:  James Baraz, Anam Thubten Rimpoche, Jack Kornfield, Joanna Macy, Julia Butterfly Hill and people from the Paris Agreement and One Earth Sangha.  Their words were inspiring and touching.  Julia Butterfly Hill's speech was spoken from the heart and so encouraging.  I believe we all went home determined to do at least one small action to protect our planet.  I felt strongly I wanted to speak for trees.  I have a daughter-in-law who works in this area, and I have been reading about trees for the last few years, but if I had to pin-point one spiritual support I've had from childhood it has to be being on the edge of woods and feeling free to walk alone into the trees, lie down on the earth and look up at the sky and sun past the canopy of trees.  Seeing the destruction of the trees in the western U.S. recently has agonized me, and I hope to write more about it and take some protective actions.  I have gratitude for the trees, and I want to repay my debt.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I cleaned out my file cabinets.  Gone are the materials and bluebooks from college teaching.  Gone are writings of members of ancient writing groups.  Gone are a hundred newspaper articles about Native American issues.  Gone are our departed dogs' vet bills.  Gone are my transcripts from college and graduate school.  I don't even want to look at this stuff and I feel certain my kids won't either.  I need to toss copies of novels I've written and short stories and just make sure I have one of each left.  Maybe next time I'll get rid of old art docent materials.  I could dump handwritten notes from classes I took a lifetime ago.  But yesterday my husband gallantly carried down four huge trash bags to recycle, so they'll have to be another purge later, when there is room.

How did it feel?  I was relieved, and strangely unattached to my younger self with her careful records and multiple copies of articles, tests and other now useless stuff.  I felt glad to see I'd saved some long ago writings, and a bit tender toward them.  I discovered ink cartridges and other computer paraphernalia that might have been helpful a decade ago, but I have a new printer.  I found a couple of treasures as well.  A protest letter to other faculty about hiring four new white professors despite my and others' plea for more diversity.  My design class notebook, which my friend taught and I remember with fondness.  The magazine that shows the redo of my studio, looking better than real life.  A kind of haphazard history of my life, in other words.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a wonderful coffee and talk with a friend this morning.  She lost her wife almost a year ago now, and she's moving on in her life, supported by her friends and big family.  She's my neighbor as well, so we comfort each other on a regular basis.  Her heart is so true, I feel open and expanded when I'm with her.  I'm taking our grandson to visit her in a couple of days, as she has plenty of toys and a grandmother's heart.  We talked about the Richard Scarry books that little boys love, and how to raise loving, empathic boys.  Her eight year old grandson is coming for a visit soon, and I described the zoo and the new exhibits that we just saw last week.  And we talked about her wife, whom I sorely miss and she grieves for.  As happens, she now seems more present again, after a year of feeling only loss.  Everything changes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We walked around the reservoir this morning, and despite my knee, my husband's back and the heat, we did it with minimal panting.  There are plenty of other people our age making the round of two and a half miles as well, and we greet each other.  The women with strollers ignore us and the people with dogs.  We are invisible to them.  That's okay.  I'm sure I was the same, although I did volunteer for an agency for a couple of years that paired me with an elderly woman who lived in a trailer.  She was a Jehovah's Witness, and sharp and judgmental at times.  I could see why her two daughters lived at opposite ends of the state.  I took her shopping, and out to eat sometimes and just visited with her.  She came to our house one Thanksgiving.  I'm a writer, so I liked her stories and even her irascible character.  Why should she be sweet like Cinderella's fairy godmother?  I liked older people because I adored my grandparents and by then they were long gone.  I love history as well, so listening to any narrative suits me.  Evidently, listen to elders is mostly out of vogue, but it prevents me from boring innocent bystanders!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Saturday night our friends took us to a Linda Tillery show, and it was a real treat.  All the music was blues, and there were some gems.  She turned 70, with a big cake and candles.  I love it when people state their age loud and proud, instead of hiding it.  I want the encouragement.  Linda has been mentoring a young local guy who was 17 when she discovered him and now is the ripe old age of 20, and he's come a long way from the last time I saw him on stage with her.  He's got that gift, a kind of miracle, and he is already writing some songs with her.  His guitar playing is mind boggling.  But I especially like seeing the old mentoring the young and the clear benefit it gives to both.  I wish more young people could see that the old might have something to impart that they could use and grow with.  You don't see that transfer of experience and wisdom much any more.  It was the real cause to celebrate that night.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was out yesterday with my foster granddaughter, now 13, and we had fun shopping, having lunch and seeing the documentary "Pick of the Litter".  I asked her, at some point, about whether her little sister was going to the same elementary school, which she is, and if she'd had a teacher my granddaughter had for kindergarten, whom I hadn't liked much.  My granddaughter replied that the teacher wasn't bad, but she had been horrible at that age.  I was surprised, as actually my granddaughter had been coping with her father dying when she was a baby, a move of house, a new boyfriend for her mother, struggle with reading due to a health issue, and just generally a lot of change at once.  She thinks of herself as a brat, but I felt the teacher was bribing kids with candy kept in her desk, and she had no sympathy for psychology.  The minute my granddaughter was out of that class, she began reading and her next teacher built her confidence and my granddaughter just blossomed.  So she's hard on her younger self, very hard.  I tried to talk to her about it, but she got that:  you are my grandmother and you dote on me so you don't know look.  Well, she is confident on the outside now, beautiful and smart with good grades.  I just got a tiny glimpse of what's on the inside.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was my birthday and we took our younger grandson to the zoo and saw bears and bison and condors and a jaguar, among other animals.  We had a high old time and evidently exhausted the little guy, as I had to wake him up after him sleeping three hours for his nap.  Then we went out with him and his parents to a kid friendly pub and had early dinner.  The night before our younger son and his wife took us out for dinner and our friends joined us, and they are taking us to a concert tonight, so there is plenty of celebration.  No complaints whatsoever.  I'm so grateful to be alive and kicking, though no high kicks anymore, and happy to have a healthy family and dear friends who make sure I'm not ignored on my birthday.  I've been receiving cards all week and gifts and phone calls.  And I have to thank my parents for showing me how to make and keep friends and that all the energy you put into friendships comes back tenfold.  I saw how much fun they had and how rewarding long relationships can be.  And then there is the fact that they are the reason I'm here on this earth!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading Rebecca Solnit's "Call Them By Their True Names" and her essays are so timely and searing.  I can't recommend it enough.  In a short essay she tackles the misogeny during the 2016 election tells it like it is, and reminds us how far we still need to go to have women treated fairly.  I admire her writing more than anyone other than Roxanne Gay and Ta-Nehisi Coates.  She clarifies my thinking and has the scope and breath of vision that keeps me sane.  Her essay "Preaching to the Choir"  gives hope that we can indeed change what is happening in politics if we use our community of the like minded to make certain every person who wants rule of law, equality and fairness gets out and votes.  We don't need to persuade those who think differently.  There are enough of us to take the country in a better direction.  We just need to raise our voices and protect their voting rights.  She is the voice of action and hope in a chaotic time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went to the little upholstery shop down the street, where this delightful Dutch couple have reupholstered our sunroom wicker, a chair in the living room, and other pieces.  Now I want new cushions on our furniture in our tiny TV room, because when you sit down, there IS no cushioning, just straight to the hard frame.  Why get rid of the furniture, when a new outfit will spruce it up, especially with extra thick foam?  I looked at fabric, wanting indoor/outdoor material to stand up to our snacking and a possible new dog, and found some fun designs.  Bright stripes and luscious colors.  They sent me home with one fabric book, and my husband and I had fun looking through the choices.  Snip/snap, we could have a whole new look and not feel our hipbones so glaringly either.  A small pleasure, but something to look forward to.  It made an overcast day almost sunny!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a wonderful day looking at and riding trains yesterday with our oldest and youngest and our two youngest grandchildren.  Everything was magic for them and therefore us.  We rode a steam train and saw big locomotives and went inside train cars like the dining car and the sleeping car and the mail car.  The little boys held hands at one point and it was so sweet.  I sent them home one with a birthday Thomas engine and car and the other with a Richard Scarry book that had a little engine and track you could push it on.  I think their dads and grandpa had almost as much fun, and my daughter, daughter-in-law and I enjoyed their enjoyment.  Though the history of it got to all of us.  I have fond memories of riding trains to visit relatives in the midwest and going with my best friend from Virginia to Fayetteville, North Carolina to stay with her grandmother and aunt.  It was a big adventure, and we dressed up and felt elegant and grown up.  I didn't ride in an airplane until I was in my early twenties.  And I've ridden trains all over Europe and India.  So I guess you'd have to say I'm a fan.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I listened to my Buddhist teacher talk about how circumstances and ordinary interactions can be your teachers, as well as people with whom you feel in conflict.  I love it when, as happened the other day, I meet someone and it becomes a teaching moment.  I met the young woman at the eye doctor's, and we talked deeply about her survival of breast cancer twice, and my experience of eye injections.  Sometimes a challenge like taking my driver's test becomes a learning moment.  I finally realized the DMV tester was hostile to me and I went elsewhere.  But most challenging of all is when you feel an aversion to someone or something and you turn not away from it but towards it.  Often you learn that the thing that irritates you about the other person is something you recognize in yourself.  If I can face it, I can change that thing in myself by being conscious of it and careful in my speech or action.  No, you can't change the other person, but you begin to feel compassion for him/her.  As they say, you know where they are coming from.  People who appear aloof turn out to be shy with new people, or talkers just plain old nervous.  Judging precipitously is unwise, and remaining open as long as I am able helps me learn about myself and others more accurately.  It's worth the effort.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took a walk around the reservoir this morning.  Every time I go there are fewer birds, the hills are dryer and we saw a lone deer down by the highway, no doubt searching for some greenery to eat.  Even the turkeys, and there are at least two dozen of them, were not under the trees but probably high up in the denser, darker forest.  Drought season, and even the water in the reservoir doesn't mitigate the feeling of the thirstiness of nature.  This is the time of year when it's hottest here - Indian Summer - and there may be two months or more before any rain falls.  Everyone's jumpy, and the air is still not clear from the earlier fires around the state, so we have every reason to be.  We bought succulents at the nursery after our walk, and it's hard to purchase plants that need water, because we struggle enough with the azaleas, camelias and hydrangeas.  Only the geraniums keep us in color right now, and the few roses we have.  This is our present moment and our future.  Rain, not so much.