Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a wonderful three days and two nights away, despite meltdowns, crying, the furnace being finicky and other facets of a family gathering.  We cooked, watched babies, endured Finding Dory repeats and enjoyed the ocean and park and aquarium.  The jellyfish were a favorite as were the big red octopus and the delicate tiny white octopus.  We sang Christmas carols.  We played Boggle and Uno.  Now we're back for the last couple of days of our daughter's and granddaughter's visit, and I will fly back with them to assist.  My daughter is much better, so the infusions are working, and she has been able to stop the painkillers completely.  I won't need to do much there except drive and cook and grocery shop.  Hey, that's my forte.  I feel more hopeful each day and am so pleased she has quality time in the new year.  Last night both my daughters, my granddaughter and I saw "Little Women" and we cried and sighed and agreed it was a terrific version of a book dear to all of us.  We came home fortified and firm in our believe in family love and support.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling very blessed, with all my kids and grandkids around me.  We had a noisy, lovely Christmas Eve, with only one bloody nose and a few screams.  Today everyone was thrilled with their stockings, and the children with their presents.  We finally got breakfast on the table, then the entire herd went to a nearby park to get some of the squiggles out.  We're having crab for early dinner, because three of the four kids have early bedtime.
My cousin and my Buddhist swim buddy wrote me such heartfelt notes and their words sustain me through the joy and sorrow of my daughter's cancer.  She is transcendent.  Engaged, loving, funny, and so observant.  She's attuned to the universe now.  My heart bleeds inside, but my love grows and grows. 
Let there be peace in the world and kindness and the gift of really seeing every sentient being.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Part of our family went to a nursery to look at the plants, the Christmas decorations, and let the children pick out an ornament for their trees.  We got a baby's-first-Christmas for the youngest, and our granddaughter picked out a taco truck ornament and our older daughter a beautiful, sparkly glass ornament.  I bought crackers for the Christmas Eve meal, and then my daughter pointed out an ornament that I loved:  narcissus in a vase, which was perfect because that is the flower I set around the house at this time of year.  I love the smell, and adore white flowers.  We all headed home for turkey sandwiches, and it felt relaxed.  Tonight we're going to an area, just two blocks, with shops, lights and music and Santa.  It's cold and crisp and clear, and perfect holiday weather.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My mother loved Christmas.  She was as excited as a child.  She loved the music, though she couldn't sing a note, the tree, the food, the stockings, and the gifts.  She made fudge and bourbon balls and divinity.  She had a big Christmas Eve dinner and then we opened one gift.  The next morning we rushed in to the living room, opened our stockings and then our gifts.  She hadn't really had Christmas as a child, her family was too poor, and one year she was given coal in her stocking for some mysterious misbehavior, and I think she wanted to make Christmas what she had dreamed of as a child of the depression.  So she was the light of the holiday, but also the dark.  When we were older and then as adults she drank too much and ruined every Christmas.  She would fight with my father, his gift was always a disappointment, whatever it was, and when she was drunk she could and did say cruel things.  Christmas is complicated.  For most of us.
This time I am acutely aware that this may be my daughter's last Christmas.  I want it perfect, but there is much sorrow in all of our hearts.  We will make it happy for the kids, but a shadow is over us adults.  I can't bear to think of how this affects our daughter.  Bless her, and let there be a miracle. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our family is rallying around our daughter to help her as she fights to live as long as she can.  She visits tomorrow for a few days and we will have a confab about how best to support her and her granddaughter.  A dear friend once told me I was "tribal" and I was baffled, because I had assumed all people thought like me, but she was right.  My tribe is where the majority of my energy has gone and goes to now.  I'm proud of our daughter who is so brave and proud of her siblings and their spouses.  We are surrounding her with love.
Yesterday, my husband and I took our three year old grandson to a vivarium, where he was in heaven among the turtles, tortoises, frogs, lizards, snakes and other critters that many children fear.  He was fascinated.  He especially liked Lemon Drop, an enormous boa bright yellow, that looked longer than a boat.  Lemon Drop's roommate is Cupcake.  The monitor lizards were lively, and there were critters not for sale, because the owners and staff have such a soft spot for them.  I found myself enchanted by them all, though I usually think of myself as squeamish.  Perhaps my grandson gave me courage.  The world is a marvelous place and its creatures extraordinary.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I am living with uncertainty, and it is disorienting.  Luckily, I know nothing is ever certain anyway, and plans dissolve in an instant.  We only have the illusion of control.  Our daughter's health has been a lesson in the roller coaster ride of life.  She's brave and determined and surrounded by friends who love her and help all they can.  Her family is praying and searching for treatments and ready to do whatever on a moment's notice.  We're all stressed and trying to balance our concern with staying in the moment and not projecting.  It's hard.  She is amazing:  clear sighted, able to ask for what she needs, and hopeful.  That is the blessing:  being a witness to her love of her life, her ability to enjoy whatever she can, and nurture herself and her daughter. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I saw in the newspaper this morning a report on two experimental treatments for breast cancer that looked very promising and sent the information on to be my daughter.  I don't want to interfere, and she's in charge of her health, but this report seemed hopeful.  She is tolerating the infusion well, but still has a lot of pain from her bones.  My friend who is a doctor had a couple of good ideas about the pain.  The first is that bad spots could be irradiated to ease the pain.  The second is she talked to a woman whose daughter was undergoing chemo without an end date, and that was keeping her alive and relatively herself, with a good life.  So there is hope all around, and I feel encouraged. 
Don't know is taking each moment as it comes without projecting into the future or living in fear.  We will live in each moment and feel it fully, pain and joy, the whole bag of tricks that is living.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My daughter has begun her chemo today and we hope for the best.  Her best friend is with her for support, and we await news of whether she will be able to come here for Christmas or I will go up there.  In the meantime I've received an outpouring of love and prayers, and feel fully supported.  I cry frequently, but also am attempting to enjoy each moment as it comes, and engage with the people (mainly grandkids) I'm spending time with.  Life is precious, and each moment is a snowflake unique and beautiful, and all are equal.  I'm trying not to add on to my sadness by attachment or aversion, which is suffering I inflict upon myself.  This is not about me.  My daughter is being brave and fully herself while she experiences horrible pain, and her situation reminds me of the Brad Pitt zombie movie where he tells the young female Israeli soldier to "gut up".  My daughter has been gutting up for six years, and is a fierce warrior.  Bless her and I'm still hoping for her to be saved. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My daughter has had some bad news, and we are all concerned for her health and treatment.  We are rallying around her, and I will shortly go to stay with her and help out.  It's a shock and upsetting, but I am holding on to "Don't Know" and one day at a time.  Many are praying for her, and her courage and nobility are shining through.  She's a fighter and fierce, in the best sense of the word.  I love her and my heart beats with hers no matter if we're together or apart.  I hope she responds well to the new treatment and can continue her life of writing, parenting, being with friends and family. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got home from a day with my fussy baby grandson to make dinner, put ornaments on the tree and address Christmas cards.  What a day!  I have to do enough this week that I can concentrate on the holiday party my son and I are having next week.  Crazy, but in a good way.  Keeping a seven month old from a Christmas tree is quite challenging, I have discovered.  Luckily, he's distractible.  Almost anything intrigues him.  Today my bookmark riveted him, until he stuffed it in his mouth and I had to pry his jaws open to remove the soggy mess.  Risky business, as he has four teeth now.  Both his parents are sick, so this week is challenging.  I try to help, but today I couldn't take over for my son, who had promised to babysit for my daughter and her husband, because I'm already babysitting the three year old Thursday night, and I'm stretched beyond my limits.  The holidays have that elastic quality to them, but at my age, the pliability is not so great.  Ah, well.  One day at a time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went with a friend to see the film "Waves" last night.  It is extraordinary!  Visually it's stunning, the acting is amazing, and the story fresh and profound.  It transcends race and class, even though it's centered on a black middle class family.  I was sucked in from the beginning, and really cared about these people.  They were flawed but sympathetic, and so deeply human.  I saw my own confusion as a teenager and as a parent.  I was left shattered in a good way.  It's not an easy film to see, but it's an important film to see. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This is shaping up to be an Edgar Allen Poe kind of day, with wind, dark skies, and drizzle.  I'm hoping my grandson will be here later.  He's been sick and his parents have stayed home with him.  I have enjoyed breaking the routine, but now I miss him.  It's amazing how attached I've gotten to all the grandchildren.  It's as if I carry them with me everywhere.  My friend and I went out to lunch yesterday, then I followed her around like a puppy while she bought a covering for a window, then talked to a business about new french doors.  We also wandered in a crazy dress shop I like, very seventies and hippie oriented,  but found nothing for our short bodies.  Every jacket and top was too much, too much material, too much embroidery, too much sleeve.  I love flamboyance but look better in severely tailored clothes.  Same with my friend.  And our partners are both a foot taller.  I told her how we didn't "match" with them, but she dismissed my theory.  We're friends like that - we say what we think.  No persona anymore, just the unvarnished us as we are.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Zen teacher's husband died two days ago.  I was deeply fond of him, and he occasionally gave dharma talks himself at retreats.  He also was an expert on the origin of words, and fascinated us with how exciting and powerful words can be.  He was a gallant man, devastated when his wife, our teacher, deteriorated with Alzeimer's, and he lost his confidant and intellectual partner.  Without him she will have to sell their property in a beautiful valley, and move in with our daughter and her partner, or be in a facility.  Though I found a new teacher as she deteriorated, I felt overwhelming gratitude to her, the place they retired, and my many profound experiences there.  Her lessons:  Things Change, Don't Know, and It Takes as Long as it Takes, among others, guide my life.  They had fourteen years retired before he died, and I know he loved it there, made lots of friends, and adored swimming in his pool, with the dogs racing around and barking.  The lesson is dying.  He had a sudden and fast death, which is a blessing for him, but hard for the survivors.  He was brave and loyal and loving to his wife, and his suffering watching her disease advance is at an end.  Even the best of us die, and we must remember to be ever so grateful for the lives we are given.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our three year old grandson had his birthday party today, and we helped set up and clean up, so we were there the entire three hours.  My daughter called me yesterday asking for suggestions and I promptly answered:  number one, lots of balloons, number two, don't bother about cake, it's all about the ice cream for toddlers.  I was mighty gratified, because the balloons were the biggest hit, and the majority of the play was catching them, pulling them around by their strings, and choosing colors.  The tiny ice cream cones, toddler sized, were perfect for the kids, and every single kid had one and ate the whole thing.  My daughter wisely had healthy snacks, sandwiches of pbj, and apple slices.  The kids ate this food without trauma or mess.  Nothing got broken, no one stepped on a baby brother or sister, and most stayed the entire time.  Our grandson was pleased, and sent us home with a green balloon.  We didn't get the playdough favor though.  He knows us well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's dark and gloomy, and we're awaiting the onslaught of the rain.  No complaints, mind you, as we desperately need it, but already our grandson's birthday party has been changed to their home instead of the park, and I didn't visit my friend this morning as I'd hoped to do.  My husband and I are going to see the Mr. Rogers movie this afternoon, as it's only four blocks away and we can walk with our umbrellas.  Yesterday I felt ragged, but I went to bed last night at 8:30, and had a hot shower this morning, and I'm more energetic.  My friend and I at lunch yesterday discussed a mutual friend with alcohol problems.  This is not a new thing, but it's been getting worse, and she has falls that leave her bruised.  Her situation is painfully remniscent of my brother's drinking years, and his gashes and wounds from falling.  My father and I finally got him into a treatment center that worked, and he was sober his last three plus decades.  My mother also broke her arm falling, and a vertabrae another, due to her drinking.  I've had "the talk" with my friend, and now I trust her loving family will see her into treatment.  I know they are trying.  For me, I no longer have any delusions that I can "fix her", and she, like most alcoholics I've been around, is full of rage underneath and can be mean.  I can choose not to be the person she projects onto, and take care of and value myself.  I pray for her.  But rescue is not possible.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a girly day today with a friend.  We saw the movie "KnivesOut" and had lunch.  The film was a lot of fun, and the actors were obviously having a ball.  It's awfully long, and added onto a million previews, swallowed up most of the day.  My friend and I caught up with each other's holiday and our lives, and it felt good to be out and about, especially as the next week is forecast as nothing but rain.  We need it and want it, but still...  We've had it usually cold for us, and it's not going to warm up anytime soon.  This morning my husband and I returned to our daughter's house for breakfast, and saw more of two of our grandsons.  Our son-in-law made a post Thanksgiving hash for breakfast, and we had jello salad and tapioca as well.  Why not?  It tis the season.  Now I must return to sensible eating, before I blow up like a balloon.  But it's fun to break the eating rules once in a while, and have TWO HELPINGS.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, what luxury!  We got up late, had waffles for breakfast, and attempted to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, but the commercials, the musical numbers, the chatter overwhelmed the occasional glimpses of the floats and balloons, so we quit that and went for a walk in the very cold for us brisk day.  We aren't known for our fall color here, but this year it has been spectacular, and so the scenery was delightful.  I feel so grateful for my life, my family, my friends.  I'm missing my daughter and granddaughter and my younger son, his wife, and their baby, but I know they are surrounded by love where they are.  It's also my middle grandson's birthday, he's three today, and he has been a blessing, as they all have.  So it's double joy today.  I've talked to some friends on the phone, texted others, and feel strongly connected.  I pray for all sentient beings, that they not suffer, and feel love. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I am a lucky duck.  Thanksgiving this year is at our daughter's house, and I was delegated to bring jello salad and cranberry sauce.  But I couldn't leave well enough alone.  I had seen a recipe for pumpkin rolls, and I decided to make them.  I began the process hopefully.  Then I needed whole milk, and went to the store for that.  Then my yeast was the wrong kind, I needed instant yeast.  Who knew there was such a thing?  I had baked four little pumpkins the night before, so I had my puree already ready, except there were seeds hiding that I picked out.  The dough in the mixer was sticky, but what was too sticky and did I need to add flour?  I flung in a couple of spoonfuls.  When I went to transfer the dough to the buttered bowl, it stuck nicely to my hands, but would not remove itself properly.  I draped plastic wrap over the bowl, after washing my sticky hands for five minutes, and waited.  It was supposed to double in size after 1 1/2 hours.  But no.  Two hours go by, three, four.  Finally, I give up and at eight pm cut and roll the dough into balls.  It has to rise again.  Luckily, by this time the room temperature had risen due to the oven being preheated for multiple hours, so by 9:30 I decided the dough was risen enough, at least for me to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and I slid the pan in the oven, set the timer, and with no hope whatsoever, went upstairs to finish watching "Rampage", with an oversized gorilla, wolf and crocodile.  I felt rampagey, let me tell you.  The smell wafting upstairs was encouraging, and when the timer dinged, and rushed downstairs and discovered the rolls looked decent, despite my forgetting to brush them with egg white and poppy seeds.  I was way past the niceties.  My husband complimented me, and I replied, if I ever decide to bake bread again, remind me I have sworn off the whole enterprise.  Now, wrapped in aluminum foil, the rolls away reheating tomorrow. Me?   I'm not sure I can even look at them again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, I'm exhausted, but my cuddlebug grandson has been reclaimed by his parents this morning.  I immediately went into a frenzy and hit the post office, bookstore, etc then washing the sheets, straightening up the house and treating myself to a sandwich while I read The New Yorker.  My neighbor brought over my Christmas cards which had arrived at his house by mistake, and I organized the kitchen and was torn between napping and calling friends.  I'm running out of steam, but have a walk scheduled with a friend where we'll get coffee, which may perk me up.  Last night I heard my grandson downstairs while he was looking for his firetruck, and he announced he'd cleaned up the living room.  Turns out he threw all the toys in a pile next to the sofa.  He was very proud of himself.  I'm wondering if his mother had warned him to clean up the toys, and he did it by having a pile three feet high.  It's true, technically, they were not all over the rug.  It looked like a tornado had done a great job of clearing the space, but at some cost to the materials flung.  Such is a toddler's logic.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took our grandson to a birthday party yesterday and the birthday girl performed "Let it Go" from Frozen, of course.  I've heard tiny girls screaming it in the neighborhood for years, and this three year old had a blue shiny frozen dress, a crown, and yes, she was cute as a button, but I had hard thoughts about Disney.  Very hard thoughts.  I don't like the film, and I don't believe for a minute kids get the messages from it that adults like to fantasize about.  I had a sweep of gratitude that our three young grandsons will embrace construction trucks and dinosaurs instead, and relief that the one about to be born is also a boy.  That's unfair, as our eleven year old granddaughter had the princess thing, then the fairy thing going on, and she sang all the Mary Poppins songs endlessly, and she turned out just fine.  But my foster granddaughter, at fourteen, is still emeshed in beauty and clothes and makeup and running her hands through her waist length strawberry blond hair.  She will turn out all right as well, but that is after a few years of rampant narcissism.  Disney doesn't help, and targeting preschool innocents is just plain wrong.  When we took our granddaughter to Disneyland three years ago we saw ten thousand little girls dressed as Elsa, and one Anna.  They all voted for the platinum blond braid and shimmery outfits.  I bought Mickey's sorcerer's hat for myself, and luckily, our granddaughter did not get with the program.  She had already chosen a Hogwart's cape at Universal Studios.  I know, there will be a lot of Harry Potters coming up in our family, but that I can tolerate.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took our three year old grandson to a birthday party in a park today, and they had musical instruments out for the children to use.  He picked up a harmonica, and began playing, swaying his body, and singing as well, like a tiny Bob Dylan.  I was surprised, but managed to get part of it on video.  I don't know if it was a fluke or he has a gift.  I know he's particular about the music he listens to, and has requests (demands) about what is played.  He loves African music, and driving beats.  Later the birthday girl got up on the outdoor stage and danced to the infamous "Frozen" song, and sang along at the end, but my grandson actually just privately made up a song, a rhythm and some words.  These little things in life delight me, and what's inside of a person, even a very little person, is beautiful and unique.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took our almost three year old grandson to see a show about Burning Man at the Oakland Museum of California.  I mean, we had no idea if he'd last two seconds.  But we were clever.  First we spent a long time looking at the koi in the pond, then four herons, and turtles sunning themselves.  Then we watched him climb the redwood burl structure for quite a few minutes and two diaper changes.  Then we had lunch, or rather, we ate and he mostly wallowed on the floor with his stuffed snake Bow.  He'd had too many snacks at the pond to be much interested in his grilled cheese  sandwich.  Before we went in, him protesting, I said he could get something at the gift shop afterward.  Bribery is a handy tool.  But he loved the show, especially climbing on a big truck with a minature movie theater with seats and a film running, and a ceiling display of imagery that was beautiful and involved jellyfish, snowflakes, water lilies and psychedelic colors.  There were two giant trees that changed colors and opened and closed their tops like umbrellas.  He arranged soft pillows in the area of the ceiling videos, and lay back and watched, fascinated.  Now he's napping, having exhausted himself culturally, and I am able to blog.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went to the pediatrician with my daughter-in-law yesterday, and it was a nice time to chat and get to know each other a bit better.  Usually, it's all about instructions for my grandson, and rushing off to work.  Her mother has a medical problem and has already had other serious problems, so she's worried about her, but luckily will see her next week, when she, my son and the baby fly there for Thanksgiving.  The wheezing sound my grandson was making turned out not to be in his lungs, but I assured her that it's always worth checking, and you never know what is serious or not.  Wheezing sounds scary.  I remember croup, and how terrifying it was when my kids had it.  These little beings are so fragile, and the responsibility so great, that just having some moral support is important.  I'm impressed she let me come with her.  First she said no, but then changed her mind at the last minute.  I, too, have no trouble helping people but lots of difficulty asking for help.  I knew the effort it took for her to ask.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're about to embark on an epic journey:  babysitting our three year old grandson for five nights and four days.  His parents are going to a destination wedding, and he gets us.  We are worried about his adjustment, our potential lack of sleep, meltdowns, etc, but he is very comfortable with us and hopefully he'll feel safe and distracted.  I did this with our granddaughter when she was his age, but this guy is more sensitive and has trouble with transitions.  I've stocked provisions like little rolls with chocolate chips in them, blackberries, strawberries, tiny ice cream cones, and other goodies.  I have a couple of new toys and new playdough.  We will have to see how he feels, be flexible and for backup we have Curious George DVDs.  Wish us luck!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I today survived an attack of smoke detector alarm siege.  As I was babysitting my 6 month old grandson, around nine am, I thought I heard a car alarm go off.  Two hours later, as the noise was getting on my last nerve, despite the doors and windows being shut, the doorbell rang and a neighbor appeared, saying the sound was coming from the other duplex.  I said I didn't know who lived there, I was babysitting for my son and daughter-in-law, but I would email them and see if they could contact him.  So I did, and they only had the guy's email, but they said they could contact the landlord for his number if necessary.  More beeping ensued, and it was not until over two hours later than the man came back from his job in the city and turned it off.  I apologized, but said I hadn't wanted to bother him, but if the neighbors were frustrated, they might call the police or fire department.  He was very nice.  I said I'd checked for smoke smell, but I also knew a fire could begin from electrical elements, it had happened to me, so it was good he'd come back.  The silence was so soothing, and my grandson, who had been fussy all morning, seemed happier as well, though, luckily, in his room, with the sound machine and the fan on, he had been able to take his naps.  But maybe it rattled him too.  I feel slightly shredded, but grateful the guy came home, the amazingly irritating sound ceased, and there was no fire.  And now I'm at home in my blissfully quiet house, relishing the peace.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I listened to my Buddhist teacher's dharma talk yesterday, in which he said the root of all unhappiness is wanting to control things.  He compared us to bubbles in the water or the dew drops.  We would think it laughable that a bubble could control the river or ocean.  The bubble arises, bursts and is gone.  Trying to control things is something that often occurs when we've been traumatized.  Our fear makes us fight to control our lives, when letting go and just seeing what happens works to relieve our stress and frees us up to enjoy what life brings us, and when we can't, know that everything is always changing and we will move on from that bad moment if we allow it, instead of having a stranglehold on pain that we won't let go.  I thought about some traumatic events in my own life, and how, when I think back, I'm surprised to find I've let go and the story has no hold over me anymore.  I have no regrets, and everything that has happened to me has given me this life that I feel is blessed.  I'm trying to enjoy the ride, and not worry about the inevitable ending. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night my friend and I went to a reading of Judith Small's book of poems, "Second Tongue".  She is a translator for people seeking asylum in the U.S.  The poems are sensitive, sad and illuminating.  Half of the proceeds from the sale of her book will go to asylum seekers.  We were surprised by the poems' power and touched by the service Ms. Small does for people fleeing terror and death.  We have a president who has zero compassion for or understanding of these peoples' lives.  We are turning away people who have nowhere to turn.  Our open arms have become weapons to strike down the vulnerable.  I pray something changes soon in our White House.  The damage on so many fronts is great.  We need to all speak up and insist we embrace our former kinder policies and principles.  It's too late for many, but not for the many to come.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I have a busy weekend with friends.  I need it.  I love the grandkids, but I need adult time as well.  It's kind of gloomy today, so laughing with friends will brighten up my world.  Yesterday, though, our three year old grandson cheered us up at lunch, as he was eating his mac-n-cheese.  He asked about our red maples, and why the leaves were falling off, and then he wished he had a red tree at home, and then after I described how new leaves would pop on the trees in the spring he announced spring was beautiful, and there would be lots of flowers and everything would be beautiful.  His interest in trees has always been intense, and his pleasure from growing plants is a joy to us.  So maybe this weekend won't be as bright as yesterday.  But it will be different.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend is worried about her mother, who at 96 is now showing signs of slow down or perhaps a need for hospice.  She is taking her to the doctor, and depending on the information, may be making some hard choices about easing her mother into passing.  Her mother is ready to go, but has an indomitable body that won't quit.  My friend is checking out how to get her mother's body to New York, when she dies, in the time frame of the Jewish tradition, and where to sit shiva there.  I reminded her that shiva is for the family, and she will have fulfilled her promise when she buries her mother next to her family, including her son, my friend's brother.  This is hard stuff, painful and burdensome, and I know well, as I was responsible for my father's death and my brother's.  I still have not scattered my brother's ashes.  After five years his remains are in our bedroom, awaiting final disposal.  I can only listen to my friend and offer my support, but the worry and responsibility rests on her shoulders alone.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah.  The Impeachment process.  Will it be a catastrophe or dignified?  Are the President's actions actionable?  I've been continually appalled by his behavior and speech, which is definitely WRONG speech, but I keep being surprised by such things not being against the law or there is no law yet existing.  I have not a clue how this will all play out.  It is like a Christmas Pageant gone wrong.  So wrong.  The mess this president has created is indeed a tangled web of deceit and lies.  I hope some good witches sweep the government clean, or cleaner.  This in no way can be what the founders intended.  We are tripped up by the webs so that we cannot rise, but only fall again and again.  I want the country to be upright again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Veterans' Day, yesterday, had me remembering the service and loss of so many soldiers.  My best friend's husband was killed in Vietnam, and it changed the course of her life, as did the loss of my mother's pilot sweetheart during World War II.  Another friend's husband survived Vietnam, but he walked off the plane addicted to heroin, and she had to leave their five month old baby to seek treatment.  The army washed their hands of the problem.  Their marriage did not survive.  People remake their lives, but the ghost of loved ones lost is a true haunting.  You are forever altered, and the sadness is part of your ongoing life.  We need to make certain we are not careless with these men and women who serve our country, and only send them where we are morally obligated to defend with righteousness.  Our recent history is not honorable, and I mean honorable to these brave souls who protect us.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I visited with one friend this morning, and we delighted in grocery shopping together, then settling down in her chairs to "catch up".  I was describing the sculptures in Kathy Butterly's show, and showed her some photos of a sculpture and painting I'd loved, and she was enchanted in the same way as I was.  We've seen so many art shows together, and remembered ones we'd both enjoyed.
Then this afternoon I took a walk with another friend, and we discussed the holidays, our families, and the movie "Harriet".  I feel restored by these encounters and ready to plunge into my busy week ahead.  Does anything rival a chat with a friend?  Not in my book!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I went to see "Harriet" this morning at 11:45 am.  I was determined to see the film and I'm babysitting tonight, so we squeezed it in between breakfast at an egg shop and the hardware store and dropping our almost 3 year old grandson's toy back at his house, as his trucks are sacrosanct, even if he's the one who left it here.  I thought the film was beautiful and profound, and I wept pretty much all the way through it.  The actors were amazing, and the story is more extraordinary than I had realized.  Superficially, I was gratified that Harriet Tubman was five feet tall, as I am, and us wee folk can be powerful!  I love seeing a film by a woman director, and Kesi Lemmons did a great job. 
The bonus was seeing the previews, where 3 more films caught my eye:  the one with Tom Hanks as Mr. Rogers, the live people redo of Mulan, which is one of my favorite Disneys, and Terrance Malick's new film about a person in Scandinavia who tries to save Jews from the Nazis during World War II.  Movies to look forward to.  Actually, there was another preview with Lakeith Stanfield that also looked promising.  Yeah!  The Oscar season is bringing us riches!

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Our three year old grandson was exuberant today at Fairyland.  He was noisy, ran a lot, made friends with a slightly older boy when he was sliding, snacked several times, fought going to the bathroom, wet his pants, went in the bathroom with me where there was a potty just his size, but he wouldn't sit on it, pretended his kitty was on a boat, wouldn't leave, but then was cheerful about getting back in the car.  He was a bundle of contradictions, and I let his energy sweep gently over me without ruffling my feathers.  His imagination is astounding, and I like to just sit there and listen to him, as I did after lunch while he piled up toy trucks to make a traffic jam, and I agreed to wave the helicopter overhead to report on traffic.  I love this age, when you learn so much from their pretending.  I remember my granddaughter making a train in her living room and I was a passenger while she fulfilled all the other roles, and my grandson talking for his trains while I overheard his worries about bullies and fears.  Now this grandson, and soon the baby will be creating his own little world to meet his needs and hopes and fears.  Play therapy indeed!

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Oh, my goodness!  I had nine and a half babysitting hours Tuesday and yesterday, the little bundle was fussy, culminating with 45 minutes of non-stop fuss.  Now, 45 minutes may not seem like a long time, but trust me, you just don't remember when your kids were little.  I walked him, I bounced him, I tried to get him to take a bottle, I tried to rock him, we sat on the front steps, I showed him every book and toy.  He was having none of it.  When daddy got home, he smiled at me from the security of his arms as if to say:  see, I just wanted mommy or daddy, and not YOU.  I was not hurt, I was delighted.  It meant there was not anything critical wrong, he was just DONE.  Well, I was DONE too.  I watched 3 Castle episodes with my husband, took a shower and went to bed at 9.  Okay, before last weekend it would have been 10, to give myself credit, but still.  I need to train with the Marines for this gig!

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Two friends and I took an older friend out for her birthday, her 90th.  We had a great lunch at a Japanese restaurant and saw the new Schrem art museum in Davis.  We all fell in love with a ceramics show by Kathy Butterfly.  So witty, so gorgeous, so goofy and absolutely female.  I loved almost every piece and we all saw the show twice.  There were other delights:  William Wiley, Arneson, Thiebaud, Joan Brown and the like.  Also a Deborah Butterfield horse, always a treat, and a great Cornell sculpture in the garden.  It was sunny and no hint of smoke, and we escaped after a stressful week and came home refreshed.  Our friend taught our children in kindergarten and first grade, and we've witnessed her creativity, her adjustment to retirement and her fierce determination in the face of aging.  She persuaded me to teach art for several years, and I was offered a great job and thoroughly enjoyed the teaching.  Her creativity rubbed off on me.  Now we meet occasionally for art shows or dance events or just old friends' get togethers.  I've known her now for over thirty years.  I hope she had fun yesterday. 

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Our son is awaiting the lifting of the evacuation order, and the air is still good.  Here the worry and the wind made me restless, and I got up early to text our son, then went out back to pick up fallen branches.  For some reason my husband came down, walked out the back door of the kitchen, and the wind slammed the door shut.  I had poached eggs on the stove, and we searched in our pjs and robes for the hidden key, which was so well hidden we never found it.  My husband was about ready to break a window when he discovered the window over the dryer in the laundry room was unlocked (oh, dear, another story) and he got a ladder and hefted himself up and over into the house.  Suffice to say, we are pretty rattled by the fires, the wind, the deja vu feelings churned up in us.  We know we are probably in for some bad air when the smoke gets here, but have filters and masks.  We just want rain! 
I had made a list of what to take when we had to evacuate, and as I told my childhood friend last night, it seemed hopeless.  Last time we evacuated our car was filled with pet cages, and our younger son's buddy thought of getting our photo albums and packed them and other sensible stuff in his car.  We had lent our second car to our next door neighbors' elderly parents.  And as I put wet towels under all the doors, I thought "take it all"  I just want everyone to be alive.  You get down to the basics pretty fast with these crises.

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My power has been out and everyone is upset about the fires, the winds, and how to figure out what to take if we have to evacuate.  Our older son and his wife and son are near the big fire and all packed up.  Two years ago they almost lost their house and many of their friends did.  Now, to be threatened again so soon, is devastating.  Tonight there are supposed to be dangerous winds, and we are all praying things don't get out of hand.  It's hard not to be distracted by the clear and present danger, and I've had to babysit my grandson inside, so he's not exposed to the air.  We both went a little stir crazy today, and I now know exactly what cabin fever feels like.  I'm worried about my kids and grandkids, except for the ones out of state, and for all the many people who are in shelters, or have lost their homes, or are without electricity.  October is a cruel month where I live.

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This morning there was the news of a fire north of us.  High temperatures and gusty winds made today disturbing.  I didn't take the baby out this afternoon but rather kept him shut up in the house.  We are all waiting for cooler temperatures and eventually some rain.  In the meantime, my dear friend and I had cappuchinos outside a coffee place, taking turns bouncing my grandson on our knees.  We described our weekend, when we were coincidentally in the same state at the same time.  A state with rain and much cooler weather.  What can we do?  Nature is in charge, and I don't think humans have much to do with this dilemma, as we live in an arid environment with a history of fire as well as earthquakes.  Fall is tough on us here.  We have our haunting memories and when heat and wind coincide, we're spooked.  Halloween, indeed.

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Yes, I'm still alive, but my baby grandson is sapping my strength.  He's six months now, and crawls like crazy, sits up, and has definite opinions.  By the time the little darling is picked up, and I rush to  make one of my twenty minute dinners (lots of salads and stir frys), I am fit only to watch "Castle", possibly take a shower to eradicate the baby poop and drool, and read in bed for the thirty minutes until I conk out.  Baby 1, Grandma 0.  Luckily, he's quite endearing.  But the last two weekends I've been away, first for my 4 year old grandson's birthday extravaganza, then to visit my older daughter for her birthday.  I had to go to Trader Joe's in desperation Monday night among the hordes to buy food.  I am exhausted and totally behind in cleaning, cards, presents, emails, texts, you name it.
My friend texted me today to see if a catastrophe had befallen me, but thank goodness, it's just my elderly body unable to keep up with twenty pounds of dynamite baby.  Every day I'm amazed I'm still standing.  It has made me fitter, and leaner.  Who has time to eat?  This coming weekend I actually have some breathing room, and plan to catch up with my list.  And go to a friend's piano recital and accompany the almost three year old grandson to a pumpkin patch.  Oh dear, I'm tired already!

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I have a student in Nicaragua who sends me a letter a couple of times a year.  She is in college and dedicated to her schooling and her goal of a better life.  She asks me about the United States and my family, and I answer as honestly as I can.  My life is so blessed, and I talk of my grandchildren and babysitting and having been a teacher.  This time she talked about water and how important it is to the people there, because, it seems, fruit trees are a major source of income and food.  I told her this time how I live in an area where the water is crucial and necessary for our agriculture, but, of course, what I don't say is how fortunate we are here in every way.  Her life is basic and a constant struggle, while mine is so privileged.  She sounds like a sweetheart and I hope her life is enriched by her education.  I hope she feels my prayers and good wishes for her life.  We are so far from each other in age, position and opportunity, but we are connected.  I feel that.

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I heard some upsetting news about a dear friend this morning, and I'm shaken a bit.  She has wonderful daughters and I know she'll get the best of care, but still...
 I couldn't sleep last night and figured it was the crazy weekend driving an hour and a half for our grandson's fourth birthday, just me, my baby grandson and daughter-in-law.  We did fine, and met my husband, older son, daughter-in-law, her mom, the birthday boy, our younger daughter, her husband and our middle grandson, plus another family close to my son and his wife.  Our younger son had a terrible cold, so he couldn't make it.  Yes we rode Thomas the Train, saw massive Thomas themed events and gifts, and then had pizza at a cafe which was noisier than the train, so that I didn't really hear anything people were saying.  The little boys eventually lost their minds, then we went for ice cream, and mercifully retired to our rooms at 7:30 pm.  Next day we met for breakfast, then went to a beach to see Monarch butterfies and observe the tidepools, after which my husband and I returned with the younger daughter, and we stopped for lunch and then the middle grandson had a meltdown in the car until he finally stopped fighting a nap and slept. 
I feel blessed with all this thriving, bustling family, these cute little rascal grandsons.  My father used to say I was a "pistol" and these three boys must take after me.  Another one is arriving in February.  My, oh, my.

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We're going on an overnight to celebrate our grandson's fourth birthday.  Yes, it involves Thomas the Train, so the family, except for our older daughter and our granddaughter, who live too far away to come for the weekend,  are riding this fabled train, surrounding ourselves with all things train, then eating at a pizza place, spending the night nearby and driving home tomorrow.  We will attempt to head to tidepools for the grandsons and hope the little ones make it through the night in a hotel.  Our older son and his wife have set this all up, and our daughter-in-law's mother will be part of this whole scheme as well.  Luckily, the event is at a state park near where we used to live decades ago, and I love the place.  Huge redwoods, sunny meadows, a covered bridge, what's not to like?  So I'm looking forward to the chaos, foolish grandma that I am.

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We took our almost three year old grandson to the zoo, but since we go so often, we have a casual attitude towards "seeing things".  We moseyed down to look at the gibbons and chimpanzees, sitting on a bench snacking frequently, then watched the huge tortoises for a leisurely amount of time, then checked on the lemurs, who weren't yet out, so we sat on another bench to wait for them to appear, which they did, frisky and delightful.  Then we went to see the fruit bats, hanging out with their stuffie.  We went inside the reptiles and amphibians house, and our grandson laughed at the lizards.  i prefer the frogs myself, and my husband goes for the turtles and snakes.  Then we saw the two big black guinea hogs, and wandered over to the petting zoo, which consists of a bunch of goats and three standoffish sheep.  My husband sat on a bench this time, while my grandson and I brushed every goat at least three times.  Then we washed out hands and headed to the warthogs (my fave) but their enclosure was being worked on so it was closed.  Our grandson wanted to see the giraffes, so we found another bench to watch them eat, and I went over and brought back a bag of popcorn and a giant chocolate chip cookie, which my husband and grandson split, before horning in on my popcorn.  It was time, so we insisted on heading home for lunch and nap, while our grandson protested he wanted to see the elephants.  After standing in the middle of the path in protest, our grandson capitulated, and we went home to sandwiches, apples and mac and cheese, then said grandson announced he was tired, and after a few stories, he collapsed, surrounded by his three kitties, his two pillows and favorite velour blue blanket. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our area is in readiness for electricity shut down, though it's just the hills right now.  Our older son is also on alert in his area, but no shutoff yet.  Most people are complaining, but I'm all for prevention, and the places they are shutting down are dangerous places where fires have broken out before.  The good news is there is no wind right now.  It's the wind-dryness-heat combo that is lethal.  Tonight the wind might come up, but hopefully not.  We all have memories of walls of fire, being evacuated, and friends losing their homes, and in some cases, their lives.  Reading about Laura Ingalls Wilder's life, in the biography Prairie Fires, reminds me that the west is, and always has been, more desert than hospitable.  Building where history tells us fire will come is one of the man caused problems we face.  It's not entirely about climate change.  Someone needs to reign in developers so people are not living in historically fire prone areas.  Local government has never stood up to those lucrative interests, but until we take some responsibility, the danger is eminent and unrelenting.

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I listened to the live broadcast of Anam Thubten's dharma talk yesterday morning, and he talked about a friend who wanted to de-clutter his mind.  He is dying of cancer, and he had this as his goal.  I've been attempting to de-clutter my house the past couple of weeks; getting rid of sheets, toys, clothes (especially dressy ones, since I don't live that life) and books.  For me, there is tremendous satisfaction in standing in the doorway of a room and seeing how bright and welcoming it becomes when there is not so much STUFF.  I am experiencing a less cluttered mind as well, due to taking care of my baby grandson.  Everything else seems irrelevant when you focus on a baby's needs.  And the most important part is holding him, rocking him, talking to him.  Not the gear, the naps, the bottle, just the one on one time.  I'm grateful when he naps, but I've learned to doze myself or grab an apple, and just be.  No to-do lists float through my mind, nor do I rush around doing tasks before he wakes up.  I'm blessedly blank.

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Our almost three year old grandson spent the night with us last night - his first overnight.  He did really well, and complimented me on lunch and dinner.  The evening required seeing Finding Dory and in the afternoon we saw Cars, but it was a small price to pay for him to not feel selfconscious about this big step.  Naturally I slept in the guest bed with him.  I wasn't about to try the toddler bed and go through getting up and down and back and forth.  Already he requires his three kitties, a hermit crab and a squid to snuggle with, plus a plush blue blanket I have that he adores.  I ended up sleeping with my granddaughter when she was young, and it gradually morphs into them handling the toddler bed by themselves, but not as young as this fellow.  His parents were able to move his stuff to his new, smaller bedroom, with walls of a bright yellow gold he picked out.  I wonder if part of the choice was that the room he sleeps in for his nap here is yellow.  This test was for the four days in November when his parents are going to Hawaii for a wedding and we have him four nights.  That won't be as smooth, I'm clear sighted about it, but at least he knows he can survive the separation.  And I'm sure I can weather a very tiny bedfellow for a few nights as well. 

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I'm reading a pretty amazing biography of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser, called Prairie Fires.  It's riveting reading and encompasses so much history I did not know.  I never read the Little House books as a kid, but some of my kids did, and we sometimes watched the TV show, but my son and daughter-in-law gave me the book for my birthday, knowing how much I like biographies.  This bio is so detailed, well researched and well written that not having a stake in Wilder doesn't matter.  It's the lives depicted, and the eras, that come to life vividly.  Years ago my husband, kids and I saw a sod house in South Dakota that I thought gave me an idea of that long ago pioneering spirit, but I really had no clue as to who these adventurers were, what circumstances they faced (economic depressions, fires, depletion of soil, illegal squatting on Indian land) and what the politics of the time meant in terms of the poor.  Wilder romanticized her past, but Fraser has brought it back in all its complexity and in the context of capitalism, and the damage it did and still does to citizens of our country.  Lots of lessons to be learned reading this book, that's for sure.

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We went with friends to see Alonzo King's Lines Ballet last night.  The live music, dancers, costumes and lighting combined to give intense pleasure for the audience.  Watching dance makes the viewer aware of his/her body, in all it's beauty and complexity.  I was mesmerized.  Then today in the newspaper the review didn't appreciate either piece much.  They focused on not understanding the "story", as if this performance had to be about sleeping beauty or swan lake.  To me this seems like a complete misunderstanding of how to approach the two pieces:  they are feeling pieces, meant to slither around despite the mind, not because of it.  I felt both pieces in my body afterwards, and that awakening was worth more than a script with characters.  The dances trusted us to experience them, and personalize them as well.  I went home peaceful and yet lit up inside.  Amazing!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One of the things I do for my grandchildren is paint and decorate a plaque with their name on it.  Maybe I'm anticipating their teenager years when the door slams and they shout "it's my room, get out", but not really.  It's more of an announcement that they are in the world and the that world is changed by their presence.  Some have it on the wall, some on their door.  I think about colors and what to paint as a background.  The last one before this had trees, as he was always happy with his stroller parked under a tree, with him looking up in fascination.  This five month old is cheery and mellow so I painted yellow blobs with red centers, like fireflies or flowers.  The background is turquoise, my favorite color.  His name letters are dark blue, yellow, lime green, orange and fuschia.  I hope he likes it, and his name, but for now, he's oblivious, and that's fine, too.

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Today a friend sent me a link to someone who has undergone mastectomy and breast cancer, and bravely shows herself topless, as she begs us not to let companies exploit "pink" for their own profit, while supposedly "giving" money for breast cancer research.  Why am I not surprised?  We are a for profit culture, and making a buck is our holy grail.  For all my friends, living and dead, who have struggled with this hideous disease, for my daughter who fights it as we speak, for my granddaughter, who has lived with her mother under threat of death for half of her eleven years, I am disgusted, but not surprised.  The horrible cancer, which affects one in four or one in five women, haunts us all.  We have our losses we grieve, our friends we support, our families terrorized by this cancer.  Don't, please don't exploit this massive suffering.  Give directly to research, not by buying pink sneakers or lipstick.  Don't trivialize the agony of women.

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Babies like to change things up.  My grandson is adjusting his naps, and I hope I survive it.  He was a little crab cake today, acting sleepy, but crying when I tried to rock him to sleep.  He took two short naps that left him cranky, and I resorted to strolling him to get him back to sleep.  Later, after he'd been on the floor, in the swing, in the bouncy chair, rocked, walked and sung to, I sat him on the kitchen counter and he talked to the toaster.  That pleased him for five minutes.  I, however, was bored by the appliances, but anything to appease him.  I came home feeling crumpled and exhausted.  Hopefully, he will figure out if he wants to be asleep or awake, and not broadcast any more mixed messages.  But he's five months old, so surprises are in store.  If he gives up naps entirely, I resign from the grandmother post.

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I put out my Halloween decorations this morning.  I've given most of it away to my kids, but I keep enough to make it fun when my grandkids come over.  My favorite sign is:  WELCOME MY PRETTIES.  I like the witch stuff, as well as the ravens and crows and ghosts.  I send or give the grandkids cards each year with paper decorations for their houses.  I love seeing kids in costume, and delight in what my grandkids choose.  Some of my favorites are my granddaughter as an ice cream cone, my middle grandson as a baby dragon, and my oldest grandson as a fairy Thomas the Train.  This make-believe stuff is creative, and my kids make sure it isn't about the candy.  I never give candy to them, only books or stuffies.  Already I've given the oldest boy a Snoopy dressed as a pumpkin.  I used to make caramel apples, but gave it up because of the sugar.  If I'm lucky I'll get to watch one of the grandkids trick or treating.  Last year I observed my middle grandboy being amazed at how wonderful the piece of candy he received tasted.  He only went to five houses, and each time he stopped and unwrapped the candy and stuffed it in his mouth before moving on.  No doubt much teeth brushing occurred at bedtime, but he definitely thought it was worth it.

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What a boxed in trap our country is in right now!  No one wants impeachment, because there is important business for Congress to address, yet the tipping point has been passed, and leaving this President to his own devices is terrifying.  Impeaching him won't stop him, and not trying to stop him is not an option, as he is so rogue it's a nightmare.  We are all damned if we do and damned if we don't.  This President has never been told no in a way that impacts his actions.  I cannot visualize any move will alter his behavior.  And we can all envision worse that what has already transpired.  With him, all boundaries are childhood dares that he relishes smashing.  We have to speak up, and that is what the impeachment process represents, but while it is going on, what more catastrophic damage can he do?  I won't name the actions that could destroy our country, but they loom on the horizon.  I hope against hope some end to this travesty is found swiftly and without further hurting our nation.

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We've had a light misty rain all day.  Very strange for us, and the time of the year as well.  We've had super hot temperatures, then a dip of 30 or more degrees.  Our lime tree responded by dropping all it's leaves, like a fall foliage tree.  We are hoping it will come back, but the trauma is obvious.  Some of my family welcomes the cooling trend, but I like it hot.  Naturally, if I were doing manual labor I would feel differently, but I do like a day without socks and a jacket.  A little sweat is fine with me.  My baby grandson doesn't mind either, so we stroll out in the heat, him with a muslin drape over his stroller, me in my trusty sun hat.  I try to keep him on the shady side of the street, as he can't fully sit up yet, so the sun can get in his eyes.  Yesterday we also perused the bookstore and fruit and veggie market for a little down time from the sun.  Today would be a good day for strolling, but I have my next oldest grandson instead, and we went to the wildlife museum to look at hawks, tarantulas, chuckwallas and turkey vultures.  He didn't wear a jacket, and was more concerned about his toy kitties left in the car than the weather, but we did cut it short, as he had to pee and is going through potty training which stresses him about accidents.  I bought him a book about animal poop and how to recognize it.  Seems like pretty much what is occupying his thoughts these days.

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Our younger son just got a big promotion and raise.  When he described how he approached his boss, I had a chill of deja vu, because he sounded so much like my dad, and his approach was blunt and humorous and endearing, all at the same time.  I've noticed for years that his hand gestures, when he speaks, are identical to my father's, but this time it was his words that echoed.  My father had charisma in spades, was known for his straight talking, and didn't hesitate to be brutally honest with his bosses.  Eventually, he was the vice president in charge of operations, so his straight shooting didn't hurt him any, and the only reason he never became president was not having any education and no MBA.  Our son, with a BA in Fine Arts and no business degrees, is super smart about business as well, and, like my Dad, dependable.  It looks like he's as appreciated as my dad was.  Our son was only ten when my dad died, so this is a DNA type of thing.  Dad would be so proud of him, and we are as well.  Hey, Dad, there you are!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Here is how my mind works:  I had my driving test this morning, because I have macular degeneration and have frequent checks.  I was a wreck last night.  I said to myself that I wasn't going to complain, so I shouldn't call my best friend.  Then I decided I would call but not mention it.  Yet when she asked what I was up to this week, out blurted my anxiety.  She's heard it all before, many times.  She gave me advice in one sentence.  I told myself, what does she know?  But I felt better.  This morning, waiting and waiting for the test my mind did cartwheels, summersalts, roller coaster rides.  I got an extremely calm and kind DMV woman.  I passed the test.  My friend was right.  And I was right to tell her, as I don't think I really hide anything from her.  She knows me pretty darned well.  So my gratitude is boundless:  to my friend, my husband, who said maybe you'll get a kind tester, to my son and daughter-in-law, who acted like I would of course pass, and to the tester.  Two more years before I have to do it again.  Will my mind be any calmer?  Not really, but I know who to call!

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My husband and I saw a lovely film yesterday, "Honeyland".  It's a documentary about a beekeeper in Masedonia, who is the only beekeeper in Europe who still finds and nurtures the bees in their rocks, trees and caves.  They shot 400 hours of film, and what they've edited tells the story of the last person left in her village (with her mother), and how she survives  and interacts with a nearby town and her neighbors.  It is touching, utterly revealing and a glimpse into a world we know nothing about.  The co-filmmakers are women, and I like that as well.  They tell her story so empathetically and undramatically, which is refreshing.  There is no agenda or talking point.  We just meet and get to know an amazing woman, surviving utterly on her own, but with daily, simple interactions that illuminate her soul. 

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Seeing images of the youth of the world marching in demand for action on climate change yesterday made me feel sad and proud.  They want a future for themselves, and we are the ones not insuring that future to the best of our ability.  Why people in power would not care about their children and grandchildren is impossible for me to fathom.  I felt shame at the state of our country, the ignorance of citizens who care only about themselves and right now, the lack of critical thinking ability that has them urging selfish people to be more selfish and blindfold any vision of which they might be capable.  I remember being terrified of the atomic bomb, and when my friend and I would lay out on the cool grass at night and talk about how useless it was to build a bomb shelter as we'd seen in Life magazine, because we lived close enough to Washington, D.C. that we knew we'd be obliterated.  We were children, but we were furious with our leaders who played so fast and loose with our futures.  These children now are speaking a truth the adults wish to ignore.  I hope the visionaries, even though they may be few and far between, answer this call for mercy.  This is not a game, and even the super rich will not escape the consequences of ignoring the cries of the planet.

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We took our almost three year old grandson to the zoo today, but he was out of sorts and begged to go back home, which we did.  But while we were watching the bears, he asked what the golden bear was doing.  I told him she was trying to get some space away from her two cubs, both of whom are now as big as she is.  She would walk down the hill and sit in the corner of the enclosure, looking at us as if to say:  "Can't I ever get a moment to myself?  These cubs never stop bungling".  And they didn't.  They'd follow her down the hill, then goof with a plastic pipe toy, the hammock, whatever, then she'd mosey her way up the far side of the hill, and they'd dog her footsteps to the top, then wrestle with each other, then she'd come down hill, and for a couple of minutes would have peace and quiet, until here they came, lumbering down to bug her again.  Toddlers, I thought.  It ain't easy.  Then we took our toddler back home, where he needed his kitties, pillow and blanket, then agreed to march up our stairs, get in bed and let me read to him for five minutes, before collapsing in the middle of pillows and kitties and blankets.  Out like a light.  I felt like sleeping right beside him, but instead returned phone calls and now am typing this.  And listening for any sign of an awakening bear cub.

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A second day of rain!  It's so nice to smell and hear it.  It's a gentle rain, and I can practically hear the plants and trees slurping it up.  Today my daughter-in-law will work from my studio and I will take care of the little scrub inside the house.  I do hope we get a stroll in.  Yesterday he was a bit fussy, and when his parents returned I was bouncing him in his bouncy seat.  His face glowed with smiles as he saw them, and I had this pang for him, and how much he misses them.  I try, and hug and cuddle and sing, but I am not Mommy and Daddy.  I cannot replace them, and he is attuned to them as to lifesaving water.  I know they struggle leaving him as well.  It just seems like everyone should have maternity and paternity leave for a year, to get baby adjusted to the world and find the best possible childcare.  I am not the best because I haven't the energy to take him out in the car or carry him in a snuggli or socialize with others where he hears their voices.  I wish our country to get it's priorities straight. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Babysitting went smoothly, and for some strange reason my back didn't hurt.  I may be getting fitter or at least used to lugging around a baby.  We worked around the rain this morning and managed two strolls anyway.  I even read a bit, when the fellow was napping.  I'm into a new Linsey Barclay mystery, about falling elevators in NYC, and it's an awful lot of fun.  Of course, now I may refuse to ever get on an elevator again, now that I know people do die on them and there are accidents each year.  Still, the odds are in favor of that not happening.  Ah, I was just thinking, wouldn't an elevator be nice for babysitting?  Or even at home.  I actually have a neighbor with an elevator, and boy, is it nice.  But for the foreseeable future my little legs are going to have to do the job.  Darn!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a walk around a reservoir and lunch outside with a friend, as a birthday celebration.  We spent a lot of time discussing our compulsion to rescue, or rather attempt to rescue our friends.  She has a friend who is trapped by a spouse who is needing round the clock care, and the friend is spiraling downward into depression.  She has expressed suicidal thoughts, and is on an antidepressant that is working negatively, not helpfully.  I lived through my best friend, in my late twenties, killing herself, and I agonized for years about my failure to save her.  I had begged her husband to get her help, offered to take care of their two kids, and yet she died exactly as she said she would.  Then another friend asked me, "What makes you think you have the power to save her?"  and I gradually realized I did not have that ability, but I'd been shoved into the position in my family where I was the rescuer for them and my brother, so it took a lot of therapy to see how complex, and often biological, depression is.  In my sixties a dear friend took her life, and I knew by then just how powerless I was.  And six years ago my brother killed himself.  He had tried in his teens and twenties, then seemed recovered for decades, but his note explained he loved me and just didn't want to live with illness.  I could hear his choice, though I didn't agree with it and I wish he had tried therapy.  But I knew there was nothing I could do.  I knew I couldn't save him, and I'd had a lifetime to try, and fail, and love him anyway.  I feel that way about all the clients in the safehouses I wanted to save.  I hope I helped with some of them, but I knew it was not about me.  It was about the culture, the disease of battering, the disease of devaluing women, the disease of not protecting the helpless.  And it takes a village, a state, a country to change the isolation and despair that some of us experience.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a birthday brunch (mine and my husband's) today, and it was chaos and running and a few screams and holding on laps.  Three little grandsons, from five months to almost four.  It was crazy and discombobulating and in the midst of it I sighed to myself and thought:  Family.  We all were like a musical chairs team, trying to hold wiggling squirming boys, so that serially we could get our meal eaten.  Two went home for naps after, and the third and his parents visited at the house until they were ready to go to a two year old's birthday party.  I'm ready for a nap myself!  The blessings of family, writ large.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're having a heat wave, but not a tropical one.  It's dry and the woods and forests are like tinder.  There was an article in the paper this morning about losing many of the giant Sequoia trees.  Every time I hear a siren I hope it isn't a fire.  There are more helicopters circling, searching for brush fires.  September and October are our most beautiful months here, but with the beauty comes the fear.  Earthquakes, fires, this is the season.  I'm lucky that my house is surrounded by trees, big trees.  And though I complain about the lack of sunlight, our place is an oasis in the heat.  But today, I probably won't sit on the back patio, not unless it is near dusk.  I am fortunate.  I read another article that noted that high temperatures affect the poor disproportionately, and part of that is not air conditioners and fans, it is that poor neighborhoods have less trees.  The wealthier the area, the more trees, more shade, cooler temperatures, better air.  If we could insist that development includes trees, and actively plant trees in neighborhoods without them, we could help rectify this injustice.  Yes, low income housing should be in every neighborhood, and it's the moral choice, but in the meantime, we could all plant trees.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Okay.  I'm getting the hang of the baby monitor and the sound machine, and our baby grandson seems to like our house as well.  It's been hot here, so he's been at our place because it's cooler.  He loves the outside:  watching the trees move, the plants, the birds.  He immediately calms down when I take him out.  He loves strolling too, though the sun gets in his eyes, and until he can sit more upright, the shade canopy is not good enough.  What must he think looking at everything as we stroll by?  He is processing, and will show preferences for roses or dogs or street sweepers soon.  How amazing it is that he is naming the world for the first time.  I see my neighborhood through his eyes and everything is bright and miraculous, as if I'd had cataract surgery and could see fully and brightly again.  I have had cataract surgery, but this is better!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had dinner Monday night with a friend from childhood, a woman who I've kept in contact with through my parents, who mentored her and her husband when they moved out here, and through our mutual friend.  That friend and I visited her when she received a diagnosis of stage 4 breast cancer, and she and her husband are now out here visiting her daughter and shopping for wedding dresses for a June wedding.  The daughter, who was my parents' godchild, is a delightful, funny, independent, smart woman who owns her own business.  Her fiance is charming and grounded and friendly.  I'm so happy for my friend; that she has this joy and anticipation.  The wedding is in Mexico, so it will be challenging for my friend to attend, but she will.  She's been through many surgeries and medical challenges, and she'll be there for her only child's wedding.  And since the fiance has two kids, one in college and one about to begin, she will have step grandkids.  Sometimes it takes a long time to see your kids settled and with a partner that will see them through their lives, but seeing it is such a blessing.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was quite warm today and my baby grandson and I hung out in the side yard glider/swing, just chillin'.  We also took two strolls, to get outside.  He was fussy in the morning, but mellow in the afternoon, and took a long nap.  I fell asleep on the couch, and woke up panicked for a minute, until I realized the baby monitor was one inch from my head.  And he has great, you might say operatic, lungs.  I'm enjoying being with him, as he is a major enthusiast about everything he sees, though he wants to taste it all as well.  He's partial to trees swaying in the breeze, and shadows, and anything that moves.  I appreciate the education in just being, no agenda or plan, just hangin' and being, well, really, being present the way the practice urges.  So he's my baby buddha, and he even looks the part.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was foggy this morning as we headed out with our younger daughter, her husband and their son, but by the time we got to the zoo in the city it was sunny and balmy.  We usually go to the zoo by us, but they don't have rhinoceroses, hippos, gorillas or anteaters.  So we concentrated on the animals our grandson expressed a desire to see, and it was fun.  This zoo used to be a disgrace, and we hadn't been in over a decade, but now the enclosures are much bigger and more suited to the animals, and they've added beautiful gardens everywhere.  The plants and flowers alone were worth the price of admission.  We especially lingered over the penguins and lemurs.  There was a South American section, a walkabout, a Matagaskar section, an African savannah section and more.  Even the cafe was much better than before.   Our grandson was thrilled with it all, and exhausted enough that after lunch we headed home.  He'd seen some animals in books come to life, and he was mighty satisfied.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my birthday, and I'm gonna have a good time, nah nah nah nah.  My husband surprised me with a katchina of the sun.  He's holding a forest in his hands (spruce) and has a tail.  The feathers around his head are golden/orange/cedar bark red.  I'm just back from the grocery store and pharmacy.  Us nannies have to shore up at the weekend, but I'm having lunch with a dear friend and we're seeing the film "Farewell" with Awkwafina.  Then tonight my husband and I go out for seafood.  I'm okay with the birthday, it's the aging that gets me.  Joke.  I have lovely plans for a brunch a week from today with the kids and grandkids here.  A dinner with a friend after that and lunch and movie with a friend some night.  A friend sent me goodies yesterday, and another sent a package a week ago.  Blessings rain upon me, and I'm grateful.  Just to be alive is such a gift. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm reading "Savage Gods" by Paul Kingsnorth, one of my favorite non-fiction writers (Rebecca Solnit is my fave).  It's so honest, soulful and deep that I'm blown away by almost every paragraph.  I bought three more copies today and gave one to my younger son, will send one to my older daughter, and give one tomorrow to my dear friend and fellow Buddhist.  He's an eco-environmentalist, and my friend and I heard him speak a couple of years ago.  I've read two other of his books, and for a person just over forty, he is so wise.  He is English but has lived in Ireland the last few years, off the grid for the most part, out in the countryside and living with his wife and two children.  His description of the writing life is one of the best I've ever encountered.  His concern for this earth we inhabit is passionate and loving.  His descriptions of trees and birds and the land is Whitmanesque.  This book is a treasure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We took our baby grandson to a park and he "talked" all the way.  This verbalizing is pretty adorable, and I respond as if I understood what he is saying.  He's very social, and smiley as well.  All of our grandchildren are supersocial and verbal, and this one clearly will be as well.  It's amazing to witness this growth of a baby, and how insistent they are on connecting with other people.  We are meant to be connected and responsive to others.  Anything else is an aberration.  And I'm convinced that the technological world is not satisfactory for our interconnection.  So what will happen?  Will we have more and more lonely people, more Eleanor Rigbys?  It's sad to be shut off from "seeing" people literally.  A need that is primal and basic is not being met.  These children want to touch, feel, see and be in the same room, not with devices, but other beings.  They will suffer greatly if they don't.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My dear friend fell the other day, in a most mundane accident in her home.  Proof that my having stairs every which way is not really the threat, it's my age, equilibrium and eyesight.  My friend looks like a truck ran over her, but fortunately, it's all superficial and will heal, albeit colorfully.  And her ancient aunt fell last week and lay on the floor 24 hours before she was found, taken to the hospital and then released, as she demanded to go back to her solitary home.  Falling is our fate, but my friend's genetics mean they can be brought down, but not out!  A tough tribe! 
I'm being hyper-careful about footwear and watching where I step, because of babysitting a four month old.  I only have about five steps to the street from my son's house, but yesterday I took the stroller down first, came back and retrieved the baby, then locked him in securely.  Everything I do with him is cautiously undertaken.  He's rolling over both ways, arching and pushing forward, so quite the gymnast. 
The baby's fragile, I feel fragile, my friends are fragile.  Everything must be handled with care.  Priority mail as well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We just returned from a trip to see our daughter and granddaughter.  We flew to them then all drove to Orcas Island in the San Juans.  Our little house was perfect and we hiked, played games, did a puzzle, and ate out for two of the three dinners.  Sunday we went whale watching, and saw Orcas frolicking, sea lions, a bald eagle, and all of the other islands.  The weather was perfect, we slept great, and the terrain is beautiful.  There are forests, lakes, farms with produce, sheep farms and alpaca farms.  We ate mussels, clams from a farm, halibut and crab.  Yummy!  Our daughter got two kittens for our granddaughter, and they are here-comes-trouble but irresistible.  Our granddaughter has begun middle school, and seems happy.  She can walk from her mother's and her father's house, which is great.  Our daughter is fighting the good fight with cancer.  It is a roller coaster ride, only much scarier.  Our hearts are with her, but this battle is relentless and makes us feel powerless.  I'm praying her indomitable spirit and fierce will do prevail.  And she gave me a copy of her novel that comes out soon, and I helped her with two questionaires from the publisher, as she has a fractured right wrist now.  She is beyond brave.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Colson Whitehead's new novel, "The Nickel Boys" is so intense I'm having to take a break.  It is painful, disturbing, and based on a real school.  Maybe the break is unfair to Whitehead.  I'm sure he wants us to be horrified and claustrophobic, but I'm an elderly woman who has to pace herself.  I adored "Underground Railroad" for it's successful magical realism, and it was intense as well, but this one is sinking me.  In the meantime, I'm reading "The Warehouse", a not far in the future thriller about a world just a hair's breath ahead of where we are now, and in a bad way.  It's brilliant, and not upbeat either, but at least it's a warning shot, not digging up another layer of racist history of our country.  I will finish "The Nickel Boys" and honor it, but first a slight reprieve.  I protect myself a little bit now, because my grief is so near the surface and can be tapped in a way that overwhelms me.  I'm not the tough reader I used to be.  I hold so much suffering of the world so close to my heart, that I have to make certain I can bear the load without tipping over.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm getting ready for a five day trip, and it might as well be for five weeks.  I could just launder once a week and get by with what I've packed.  It feels great to be traveling, especially as I'll be babysitting all fall, and the most I might get away is a weekend.  Today a friend said she'd just booked a trip to Nepal, Bhutan and Tibet.  Gee, and she's not even a Buddhist. 
I am touched that my writing group hosted a breakfast for us, as I'm ending the group.  We had fun talking and going back to find out when we were first married and how young and naive we were.  One was 21, two 22, one 25, one 27 and me, 19.   Our brains we're even fully developed (that happens around 26).  Two stayed married, but the rest of us divorced and found other partners later.  None of us thought we could divorce, and  my father told me I'd made my bed and better lie in it.  We realize we were children still, but in those days people married young and had their children right away.  I'm grateful that now you can do those big commitments in any order you wish or not at all.  Still, we flourished and grew up eventually.  At least that is our collective delusion.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The other day a friend and I were talking and she complained about the homeless laying on the sidewalks.  She said she didn't know why they had to sleep there.  I was stunned.  She is an extremely kind and compassionate person.  I told her they were afraid.  That being where there were witnesses made it less likely they'd get kicked or robbed.  The police presence made it safer.  I said, they live in fear, wouldn't you?  She was so used to seeing the homeless that she had lost the ability to put herself in their place.  I try to respond to every homeless person who speaks to me, unless they are obviously crazy and out of control.  I want to give them at least that much dignity.  My friend's response was a lesson to me, of not hardening up in the face of a daily familiar occurrence.  We become numb, and don't exercise our empathetic abilities.  We should all be agitating for housing for these people, mostly suffering from housing being unaffordable, even if you work.  And some of these people need sheltered housing, possibly for the rest of their lives.  And medical care, and therapy.  It seems like we are so rich a country that we entertain ourselves rather than helping those in need.  I'm ashamed.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent the day yesterday with a friend antiquing, and we had a lot of fun.  We drove to a town we both love, at least the old town area, and looked at so much it made us dizzy.  I found an Inuit mask for my husband for his birthday, as well as a paperweight, which he collects.  I fell in love with a basket that I'll give to another friend for her birthday, and bought two necklaces for my daughter and granddaughter.  I bought myself a turquoise ring, crystal earrings and a wooden bowl.  We ate lunch outside by the river, and stuffed ourselves with heirloom tomato salads and fish and chips.  The week's calories in an hour, but worth it!  We approach antiquing differently.  I look everything over carefully, and if I ask to see something, I usually buy it.  My friend talks up a storm to the dealers and has them bring out many items, which she asks a lot of questions about, but seldom buys.  That is because she is an expert at jade, gold, jewelry, Asian antiques and lots of other items, and buys and sells constantly.  She collects so many things:  Limoge, Hummel, Russian ornaments, wooden boxes, jade, gold, demitasse cups, you name it.  She really should have a shop, she loves the hunt and trade and bargain so much.  It's an adventure going with her. 

Wandering Along the path: Right Speech

It was hot today, and both my daughter and daughter-in-law came over to escape the heat, and have early dinner with us (early because of the two year old and baby),  I feel, every time I see them, that I wish I could do more to help out, but honestly, I'm surprised I can do as much as I do.  The grandkids rejuvenate me.  I'm happy holding the baby who is cooing and vocalizing while we sit talking and eating, and I ignore the non-eating of the two year old, who is cranky and tired and overwhelmed with all he's absorbing.  In the end, they are not my kids, and whatever guidance they get will be from the parents, and rightly so.  Each grandchild is quite different, because they've adapted to their parents, who are quite different.  They've got to figure these things out with each other.  I expected I'd have more judgement and advice, but no, I really don't.  I love them all, but I'm retired from the fray.  And I have no idea how I ever did it with my kids.  Did I have a plan?  I don't remember.  That's the truth.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, the satisfaction of actually eating leftovers.  My husband and I ate leftover quiche last night, with leftover cold slaw, and the night before leftover potatoes.  Now there is only potato salad that needs to be gotten rid of, but perhaps not tonight.  Too many potatoes actually turns out not to be a good thing, contrary to what I've believed all along.  If you gave me french fries or potato chips right now, I might actually reject them.  Theoretically.  I have a craving for crispy chicken tacos tonight, and will try persuading my husband to pick them up.  It's hot here, and I really don't feel like cooking.  I only do thirty minute meals anyway, unless it's an oven for an hour deal.  Stir fry is my top, with salads with shrimp, scallops or languistini and the trusty BLT sandwich.  Lazy, good grief, yes, I am lazy, and proud of it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we took the grandson to a wildlife preserve.  We saw a kite, peregrine falcon, hawks, turkey vulture named Richard and a raven named Hello, because she can say it.  Our grandson was fascinated by the king snake as well, but not too interested in the tiny bat.  He picked out a toy bird, a peregrine falcon, as a souvenir, and was pleased that we found a playground on the way out, where he lay in a tunnel and talked to his bird, then fell in love with a toy garbage truck and desperately wanted to play with it.  We thought in belonged to the boy using it, but then a tiny girl grabbed it and played, and she and her mother offered for him to play with her, but he really, really, really wanted it all to himself.  There were a few tears, until I revealed to him plastic trucks were in the trunk of our car, and he was happy to hold them devotedly in his carseat until we arrived home, then played while I made him mac and cheese.  He's asleep now, exhausted, and my husband is asleep in the sunroom.  Toddlers are exhausting.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We have our two year old grandson every day this week, since his preschool is closed.  We took him to the rose garden again, which he loves.  He collects petals from the ground, smells the flowers, and runs around and up and down stairs until he's exhausted himself.  Today he was trying to find a hiding spot and discovered a chicken coop up in the trees.  Nine big fat hens, all very social, came to the fence in anticipation of food or just curiosity about an animal not much bigger than they are.  The biggest, a black and white, beautifully feathered lady, seemed to take a shine to our grandson, and he to her.  We finally persuaded him to leave, but he's always adored chickens.  The nest/egg thing is fascinating, and the perhaps unconscious feeling of having been an egg in his mommy's nest is bubbling up in him.  He's definitely our little chickadee!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Friday night our younger daughter told us they are expecting a baby.  We were surprised, though we knew they wanted two kids, and thrilled.  I want my kids to have what they want, as much as it is possible.  So, there will be a fifth grandchild, and four under five.  I'm going to keep plenty busy.  Our grandson says he wants a sister, but probably, this will change.  He hardly knows what he's asking for.  Our son-in-law is an only child, and has expressed that he doesn't want that for his son.  They are great parents, and young enough to have more than one.  It will be interesting to witness this new journey on which they are embarking, and we will support them along the way.  I feel like Dorothy with the Munchkins!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A friend died Tuesday after an over four year battle with lung cancer.  She was diagnosed with six months to live, but her indomitable spirit and great doctors gave her four years of quality life, with work, travel and friends.  She had a great sense of humor.  One of those people who can laugh at herself with genuine joy.  She was an enthusiast, and her exuberance carried you off with her.  She said exactly what she thought, whether it was tactful or not.  Therefore, you could trust everything she said to be her true point of view.  She loved to argue, and being a lawyer, she got plenty of opportunity.  Her sense of fun was contagious.  She leaves behind a daughter as strong and forthright as herself, and a devoted husband.  She was in a study of religions group of mine for ten years, and a couple of years ago she insisted we should have a reunion, and I gave in and hosted a luncheon to which everyone came except a person living in another state.  When she spoke, she was so honest and true about her cancer and all the feelings, thoughts and emotions, that it caused a ripple effect.  Everyone else around the table spoke in a similar deep hearted manner, and I'll never forget that few hours of the meeting of hearts, not minds.  I cried.  Her courage and tenacity were a beacon to us all.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent yesterday with my oldest grandson and my son.  It was over 100 degrees, and we tried to convince him that going to the park was a bad idea, but it was easier to take him, in the end, and let him see for himself.  The park was deserted.  We were the only humans there, and come to think of it, I didn't see any squirrels or animals either.  Too smart.  He couldn't do the slides, too hot, and he wandered around and climbed on a couple of structures.  You could tell he was pleased to have the whole park to himself.  He didn't give up for about 45 minutes, then we persuaded him to go to the bookstore, with a caveat of a stop at the toystore.  Both were airconditioned, and we found a magic treehouse series he likes, a farm book for my youngest grandson and puzzles for the oldest and his grandpa, my husband.  Then we came home and played with little toy chickens and their coop, a stuffed horse and stable I'd brought down from home, and relaxed inside.  Going with the flow of the person with the most energy, the three year old, was the wisest path.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was thinking last night in bed, what if I set myself the task of asking:  When I harm myself or others by my speech or actions, is it worth examining if it's intentional or accidental?  And what does the choice mean?  Have I said or done something out of an old, subconscious pattern, or did a part of me "know" this was, shall we say, not my best self?  The distinction is important, because if the speech was even partly deliberate, I can notice that, pause, think of the consequences, and not continue.  But patterns require a lot more work.  They may be hiding in plain sight, but they are so familiar and comfortable that they feel "good" even when they are not.  I retreat a lot when I've been hurt, and conscious or unconscious, I'm not doing the best thing by running away.  I lose the possibility of making things better by frank discussion, and I'm stuck in a rut.  Conflict is abhorrent to me.  I'm what a jokingly call myself:  a chicken livered coward.  I feel I had enough conflict in my early years that I'm filled to the brim already.  But I perpetuate self harm when I retreat all the time.  In my marriage I stick up for myself, because after 45 years I trust that I can say what I need to say without fear.  But others, not so much.  My Buddhist practice has helped with the intentional/partially intentional, because I mostly give myself that pause before I speak or act.  And more awareness has brought to light my patterns as well.  But they are relentless, and pop up no matter how much work I do to nip them in the bud.  I guess I'm just a work in progress.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our grandson is turning four soon, and I've just purchased tickets to a Thomas the train Halloween party.  The boy is crazy about Thomas, and clearly there is some magic ingredient I can't understand.  Maybe because I'm a female.  With three little grandsons I have found myself reading about, visiting and riding trains a lot, and actually, I remember our granddaughter loving riding the real ones.  We took a train to visit my friend and stayed a couple of nights and another time her mother, she and I visited another city.  She's seen the train museum by us several times, too.  So it's definitely a thing, and much more positive than a lot of franchises aimed at children.  What I feel is change.  His turning four means this may be the end of the train era.  Other passions will pop up soon, and he will want to do more things the other kids do.  It's natural, but he's not a little, little boy any longer.  The ride he's going on is going to take him far away, and we'll be waving at the station.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband is up at our cabin and I'm staying home.  Since we retired, I've needed some time alone and since he is not away from the house much, I never get the solitude I crave.  I used to go on retreats, but I've lost my retreat buddies due to aging and needing better accommodations.  In the past, we could sleep in a tent, drink from a hose, and get a shower once a week.  No more.  Falling is our big risk, and walking sticks and good hiking shoes are not enough.  So now I retreat at home.  I probably won't see anyone until my husband returns in three days, and that's fine with me.  I get up earlier when he's gone, as I am a morning person, and today I've already vacuumed the downstairs and worked on a stain on the kitchen rug.  I'll take a walk today and maybe look in the toystore for a surprise for my oldest grandson, as I'm visiting him Wednesday.  I'll eat lunch for dinner and dinner for lunch and NO COOKING.  I need a break.  I'm part extrovert, part introvert, and I need to feed both.  Right now, the latter.  I'm going to listen to my Buddhist teacher's dharma talk, streaming online soon, and do a little meditating.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My dear friend and fellow former English professor has corrected me on the compass poem.  It was John Donne not Alexander Pope.  Oh, dear, my brain is ossifying. 
Yesterday we had our two year old grandson, as usual, and he was grand until our daughter came to pick him up.  He had a sobbing, hysterical, heart-rending meltdown.  It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I know better.  The stress of so many schedule and childcare changes, unavoidable, have left him with a great, unnamed fear.  She waited patiently until he calmed down, but the sobbing left my husband and I feeling blown away.  Our grandson is overwhelmed, and struggling to rebalance himself.  I have faith he can.  He has a lot of love surrounding him, and he is intelligent and resourceful.  We've watched our granddaughter struggle with her parents' divorce, her mom's cancer, and she is strong.  But sometimes, you see the cracks.  Kid's lives are not easy.  They are swept by longing and unruly emotions and thoughts, and they haven't developed the skills to weather them.  Witnessing all this again, as we did with our four kids, is just as disturbing as before.  You want to protect them, but sometimes you can't.  It's amazing, actually, how resilient we are.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Remember the great Alexander Pope poem about the man of the couple who roams around and his lady is the fixed point of the compass for him to come home to?  Irritating but beautiful.  Well, I kind of feel like the fixed point mother whose kids and grandkids are all over the map, traveling, and I have this umbilical cord type of connection to each that causes tugs and almost tears and a bit of heartache.  One of my best friends calls me "tribal", and I believe I accept that label.  It feels like my job to swing them home, connect (internet, instagram, IPhotos) and make sure no connection gets "lost".  I read this morning about the couple in El Paso, only married a year, who protected each other and their baby.  He covered her body, she covered the baby and both died but their son lived.  That's what parenting feels like, and even though my kids are parents, it's hard to let go.  The protective instinct is fierce.  It may be irrational at this point for me, but it's burning there in the center of my heart.  I recognize it.