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.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As I write I hear a foghorn, so it's not the brightest of mornings.  The fog will burn off, and we are grateful to it for keeping our climate moderate.  Last night we watched "All The President's Men", which struck us both as pretty much the situation our country is in now.  Corruption and disinformation at the highest level and with the cooperation of the CIA and FBI.  Coverups.  But unlike the Washington Post, our current press seems to have no power to persuade voters (except for the left) that we have a criminal in the White House.  Nixon resigned rather than be impeached, but Trump is not that kind of guy.  He's the Big Bluffer, and he makes it seem like Nixon possibly had some kind of conscience.  What happens when there is no Jimminy Cricket on your shoulder?  Then you have a post Disney world with no happily ever afters and no morality on the table.  Seeing the movie, I realized this IS who the Republicans are and have been all along.  Lie to the people, get cosy with lobbyists, take money from people who then own you, and turn a deaf ear to ordinary constituents.  Not much of a party of Lincoln, is it?!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I walked with a friend this morning, and part of our conversation was about her mother-in-law, who has dementia and is in a memory care facility.  She is past all pleasures and is being awakened to eat.  Yet her body is resilient, and she is on no medication.  I have another friend whose mother is deteriorating in a similar way, and a friend whose mom is sharp as a tack but who wants to die, but her body is fighting gallantly to keep on going.  It's sad to witness, and to be responsible for these older ladies is terrifying.  For two of the women all quality of life is gone.  For the third, she IS the witness to her own decline, and wishes she wasn't.  I lost my parents way too soon, but they were fully cognizant up until their deaths.  My father could ask himself for his friend to give his eulogy, and make choices about how and where he died.  My mother had had a fun day the day before she died, shopping and lunching with a girl friend.  She woke up and her stomach was upset and as she stood at the sink she collapsed and died instantly.  They were present.  I feel for my friends who have parents who are absent in spirit, but their bodies remain, shells not fully inhabited.  It's not fair, but it is how complex life can be.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My friend and I took a long walk, stopping for cappucinos, to buy books, and to get some produce.  We found these amazing white apricots that were sweet perfection.  We got to talking about not having families to support us, and making friends into family.  But she has a mother, who lives with her, a sister, brother-in-law and a niece and nephew.  I have only two cousins and an aunt who connect with me.  Then I got back and my husband said his sister had emailed him and suggested she, he and their brother meet.  This is after decades of not seeing each other.  Is this good our bad?  I don't know.  I will not be invited to meet.  And I'm kind of done, having had no interest from either the brother or sister in me, any of our kids, or our grandchildren.  They don't know their birthdays or names.  I feel like my husband should do whatever feels right, and I'm staying out of it, but there is a tipping point, and for me it was not rsvping to our kids' weddings.  Okay, don't come, fine, but NO response?!  They are not family to me.  As I said to my friend, I'm a little bit to Old Testament at this point.  They've had 45 years to connect, and I guess I've had the same amount of time to disconnect.  It's sad, but true.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday, when I was in Target, it crossed my mind that a gunman would have an easy time mowing down a lot of people of color, children, innocents buying food, and as the lady in front of me, obviously a teacher, school supplies for students.  And then we had two shootings in El Paso and Ohio.  This is crazy.  Our Congress seems to have no interest in protecting us.  Maybe we need to stop going to stores until the coast is clear.  Order everything online and let the businesses take action.  Amazon would be very happy.  They've been hoping we'd cocoon ourselves, drug ourselves, slap our faces in front of screens nonstop.  Then we'd be perfectly isolated from our communities, our families even.  Under siege.  We need to speak up, financially support gun control, vote against anyone who doesn't have a record of protecting our lives.  Otherwise, we're in foxholes in a third world country; our own.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I shopped on a Saturday, which normally I avoid.  I must say, I saved money by doing so.  First I hit Target, and since they have redone the entire inside, I wandered around like someone lost in a forest, and got exhausted before I could by a single frivolous thing, as is my tradition.  I came home with toliet paper, toothpaste, hand soap, and birthday cards.  Well, that's fudging a bit.  I bought a hipster hat for my baby grandson, and a book about preschool for the next oldest.  But I was so restraintful.  Next I hit Nordstrom Rack, and left after waiting in line for items I could have done without:  rubber flipflops, a summer shirt, a zoo flipbook for the grandsons, and hand cream called lemon custard.  Who could resist that?  The line to check out was long, and it caused me to waste my time looking at lipsticks and other cosmetics that I had no intention of buying.  But I COULD have found the perfect moisturizer, in an alternate universe.  I came home exhausted, and wondering why I'd gone out.  Impulse buying, I guess.  None of us are above it. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had our two year old grandson today, and took him to a park he likes to play in, and he wallowed in the sandbox, rode the see saw, climbed and slid and did the swings, until we saw a truck across the road pull up with a construction vehicle that our grandson fell instantly in love with:  an asphalt grinder.  Yes, we had to ask what the name was, as we'd never seen one before, and trust me, we're up on our construction vehicles, due to this little boy.  We witnessed the grinder being carefully offloaded from the big rig, and lumber it's way around the corner into the playground parking lot.  Of course, we followed it.  Then we observed the setting up of the tearing out and repaving of the lot.  That was when my husband asked what the darned thing was called.  We finally tore our grandson away, and he kept up a monologue all the way home about wanting an asphalt grinder.  He's been promised by his parents a new truck if he tries the potty seat, but the tanker truck he'd wanted was now forgotten in the ecstasy of the asphalt grinder.  My husband couldn't resist looking on line for a toy one, and there it was, for only $190,  Our daughter and son-in-law are going to resent us for this.  I just know it.  We're in trouble!