Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We can't wait for this horrible, terrible, dreadful, awful bad year to end. Yeah, 2021 will be a mess too, but at least we can anticipate the vaccine, and possible loosening of restrictions next summer. And the days will be longer, and we can avoid the orange one more easily. Walking the other day, I saw a sign in a yard that simply said: Bye, Don. It made me laugh. Let's hope the angels of our better selves re-emerge and we, well dare I say it? COOPERATE for the benefit of all beings and our children's and grandchildren's futures. It's possible, and the tipping point is not so far away. We've seen what hate and selfishness can do, and it's not a pretty picture. And really, we any of the people who let loose with their worst impulses any happier? I don't think so. It buzzes you up, but fizzles pretty quickly, especially after someone you love dies of covid. So let's try, folks, let's really try to all get along.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today our 10 month old grandson finally was comfortable enough with my husband and I to not cry when his mother was out of the room. It's almost heartbreaking, because after this Sunday, we will not be able to be in a pod with them, as his older brother will be back in his preschool, so we will kind of disappear. We can see him outside, six feet away and masked, but that will maybe be once or twice a week for an hour. But I'm grateful we had even this twelve day period when we could touch and hug and smile. Hopefully, we will receive the vaccine sometime next spring, and it will be possible to see our grandchildren again more normally. I am grateful that they are all well and managing in this strange world. So many people are suffering so much more than my family. We had no funeral or celebration for our daughter, but that will have to come later, perhaps next summer. My dear Zen teacher has had her cremation ceremony on Zoom, so that will have to do. My cousin's daughter's husband has died, and I will miss any service for him has well. But we have all lost people and been unable to mourn in the usual ways. We will be a nation of trauma after this pandemic, and a great deal of tenderness and healing will be necessary. I wish everyone self-kindness and delicate care of others in his post nightmare time.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We drove this morning to a park with a lake, gardens, playground and lots of birds and ducks. My husband strolled the sleeping ten month old while my daughter, her four year old son and I went to the playground. I was the sea monster and my grandson and daughter were the pirates. They attacked with pretend "canyonballs" as my grandson calls cannon balls. Then my husband and I pushed the baby towards the lake, but he woke up, so we headed back and picked up the other two and we walked to where we could see the waterfowl and birds in the trees. I even identified a towee and cormorants. Our grandson loved the Canadian geese landing in the lake in synchronicity. He had a snack, the baby attempted to dive into the water, then we headed for the rose garden which astonishingly had lots of roses in bloom, and then we passed the vegetable garden and swung around the far side of the lake, enjoying the sunny day. We saw perhaps two people without masks who were easily avoided, and since we'd come so early, a bit after nine am, we had not had to face the crowded playground that we observed on our way back to the cars. When it seems insurmountable to be outside, there is usually a way to manage it and be safe, but I have to keep being reminded. And my new mask didn't fog up my glasses! Oh happy day!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The older I get, the less I feel I know. I think a lot about my daughter who died, and she has become so complex she's like a faceted diamond to me. You can't judge another person, because what you see is their "story" and their words and actions. But INSIDE the person: unknown. I do know she was conflicted, after a tumultuous first few years. She didn't have the self esteem I attempted to instill in her. Yet she was risk taking, daring and fought to keep true to herself. True love didn't run smoothly for her, if it ever does for anyone, but she picked partners who respected and adored her, so her choices were solid. Motherhood came somewhat late to her, but she emerged herself in making her daughter's life rich and full and surrounded by loving family and friends. And when I contemplate my other three kids, they too elude me with their complexities and nuances. They are so much more than I will ever know or guess. All four are kind to us and others, and clearly try to do no harm. We all share the same leftist politics. We all adore children, and books, and art, and music and nature. But do I KNOW them? No, they are mysterious and always will be, as I am to them. This allows for surprise, delight and fun, and dampens judgement's ugly head. Relationships are shadows dancing with each other, unable to see the person clearly. I accept that now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a lazy, cosy day yesterday with the opening of presents, the grandsons' gifts to be exact, taking more or less all day. We had a big brunch then my husband and I went back home so the boys could nap, and at five we had a nice, light Christmas dinner: salmon, squash, turnips and a big salad. Today we went over for a walk and so my husband could build legos with our four year old grandson, while I helped my daughter corral the eleven month old, who is determined to fall, crash, or burn. He's super active, and into everything. Now we're back home and I feel like a nap myself. It rained yesterday, but not the big storm they predicted, and the rain forecast for tomorrow is gone. It's sunny and warmer than expected, and our walk was lovely. How is it I can get exhausted doing nothing? I'm tired from the entire year, and the end is unwinding me. I have high hopes for 2021, and no regret about leaving 2020. I'm sure I'm not alone.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Christmas Eve, and as if in a sci fy movie. Like 28 days later or Contagion. Our state is absolutely beseiged with covid. We are not supposed to go anywhere. Luckily, our weather is forbidding, and tomorrow is supposed to be rainy. It may help keep people in, but I'm thinking it might be this new, more spreadable strain, so that people aren't really acting out, it's the virus acting out. Fear is in the air. But we will spend these next few days in our temporary pod with our daughter, son-in-law and two of our grandsons, so we are very lucky. They quarantined and tested, and we can be together until January 4, when our four year old grandson returns to his preschool. There is no greater joy than children at this time of year. It will be the baby's first Christmas, and he loves (a little too much) the tree. The presents have to wait until he's asleep tonight, or they'd all be in tatters. I hope everyone finds a way to keep hopeful and cheery. Merry Christmas to all and to all a better safer 2021!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We've had some crystal clear nights and we did see the Jupiter/Saturn show on Sunday night, but all the stars are bright and the moon looks so near right now. Very Jeruselem inspiring. I'd like to think a person compassionate and wise is being born somewhere to bring some clarity and peace. At the general time of Jesus' birth, there was the historical Buddha, Confuscus, Mohammed and other beginners of our modern religions. There was a shift in consciousness, as if the human brain had evolved further. We could use some more evolution right now, and my Tibetan teacher jokes that we are not as evolved as we'd like to think. 2020 proves that beyond a doubt. But we have the capacity. We can stretch ourselves and open our hearts - crack them wide open and let whatever comes in without fear or judgement. My friend had to put down her dog this week, and I've been where she is now. My dogs were the path with heart, and their unswerving love and devotion challenged me to be my bigger self. They are our Jimminy Crickets. Losing them takes the heart out of the home. One great thing about this pandemic is how many animals have been rescued and found homes. We somehow know they bring out our best selves. I think of my late dog's eyes, seeing into the deep part of me, and never wavering in her love. The Tibetans believe in reincarnation and that dogs are next highest to humans. I've often teased that they are above us, and I wish to come back, if there is such a thing as reincarnation, as a dog. Preferably a lab.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I did not want to hear about the new variant in the United Kingdom. I really, really did not want that information, and neither did anyone else who heard about it. In our woman's group is a person who's daughter and family are there, and I'm sure her heart dropped. Now that we are getting a bit less noise from Trump other terrifying news pops up, could keep our adrenalin high, and our hope crushed. I know, on some level, the journalists feel they are doing their duty to inform us. But they are also scrambling for our attention in exactly the same way Trump is. And for the same reason: it benefits them financially. Right speech is not necessarily rushed speech. More research and facts would aid our understanding, but we seem to be on a path where the stories are vomited out compulsively, then adjusted later (well, not in Trump's case). I don't see the careful workup that major stories in the news used to have. These newspapers and TV stations etc are owned by conglomerates. Grow, grow, grow is the impulse. I try not to participate, but my phone is against me, and what little I read is hyperbole. How do we protect ourselves by taking in only what we can handle? I try, but get blindsided constantly. The only tool I have is to pray for everyone's well being, and stay in the moment with those prayers. I can still experience joy in nature around me, the Facetimes with my grandchildren, the little interactions with my husband, friends and animal life. As long as I don't jump ahead to expectations, and keep the mantra Don't Know. But it's so hard, so wearing, so harmful. News is poison right now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had our women's group on Zoom this morning, because our state is in complete lockdown, so that even masked and distanced, we were not supposed to meet. We discussed how confused we were about how to get tested, if we needed to. I guess I would call my doctor, but she would not test me, and she's only doing phone conversations, but hopefully she could direct me to where I could be tested. All of us described our probable Christmas, and all but one woman was going to be with a piece of her family, but not most of it. We also recommended books, movies and activities we had enjoyed. I recommended going to this historic site an hour away that seemed safe and was wonderful to visit. They had lots of enormous Christmas trees and lights, and the gardens were not crowded and every single person was masked. A couple of us who had managed to go to the local zoo while it was still open felt its closing was unfair. They had limited entrance and everyone had been masked and stayed an appropriate distance away. But still, it is again closed. Gardens and parks are about it right now. And of course there is no monitoring, so if someone is not wearing a mask, and you can't distance fast enough, it's risky. Yesterday I went for two walks around the neighborhood, but sometimes I have to walk in the street to avoid an unmasked jogger or just a person who doesn't wish to comply. It's an obstacle course kind of stress and my state is in crisis, so I'm fearing everything and everyone. Not a good frame of mind for the holidays. I feel like I'm hunkering down in a bunker.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished reading a memoir: The Beauty in Breaking, by Michele Harper. It's a profoundly moving account of her struggle to move on from a traumatic childhood and love and accept herself. She is an ER physican, African American, who describes some of her encounters with patients and what they taught her. Her command of language is wonderful, and the writing is often lyrical. I especially like the parts where she is working in a VA hospital in Philadelphia. Her compassion for the traumas soldiers have often experienced and not processed is moving. She sees the humanity in everyone, because she takes the time to do so. Her experience with a woman vet, also African American, who had been raped by more than one soldier while deployed, is wrenching. But there is lots of description of her own life, and how she heals herself after a divorce. The meditation, yoga and other self comfort she makes time for eventually bring her back to herself and her life's purpose. It's lovely.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

As a part Native American, I'm so proud Rep. Haaland has been nominated to be Secretary of the Interior. I have high hopes for her, and what she can do to heal our earth and protect our land. She comes from a tradition that values the earth and its creatures, and she will be its protector. I'm just happy to see so many women in positions of power. I'm not naive, I know women can screw up and be enticed by power as much as men. But I do believe our biology, though I would have denied this when I was younger, impells us to nurture. I'm hoping more women in power mean equal pay, attention to child care and other supposed "women's" issues, and a dynamic that mediates rather than polarizes. I'd like to see women in the military protected from harrassment and rape, and domestic violence addressed vigorously, so children don't have to grow up in violent homes and perpetuate the cycle. We are usually the negotiators in our families, and we don't as often believe in judgement, competition and "winners and losers". We understand compromise is not a bad word but a badge of honor. Ladies, let's do it, I know we can.

Wandering ALong the Path: Right Speech

I went to my eye doctor this morning and my eyes were still holding. I get nervous before each checkup, but so far so good. Having my vision threatened has been challenging, for many years, but I've been fortunate that my one eye is doing all the hard work. Also, that science has found treatments that have worked on my bad eye, so that I have a lot of vision left, but have lost the ability to read or see faces through it. My eyesight has been an issue since lower elementary school, when I had to wear glasses. I kept "losing" them on purpose and in that era "four eyes" was humiliating. When I turned sixteen, and could wear contact lenses, I felt I transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. But in my late forties I had cataract surgery for both eyes, then thyroid eye disease and finally macular degeneration. I was terribly myopic, and that can exacerbate macular, because my eyes are so egg shaped. I adore art and reading and all the things that vision brings, and though I've trained myself to rest my eyes, listen to music, and not be so dependent on the visual, I really haven't succeeded that well. I am enjoying my vision as it is and while it lasts, and will adjust as things change, which is the law of the universe. This threat makes me gratefuf and appreciative of all I see, from my grandchildrens' faces to the snowdrops coming up under the persimmon tree. Seeing is conscious for me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was the birthday of my granddaughter's father, my former son-in-law. He is a hero. He hung in as a father after their divorce, and they shared custody. He moved three blocks away so he could help more the last six years, while my daughter battled breast cancer. My granddaughter could go to either house after school by walking. He was tactful during my daughter's remarriage and kind to her new husband's two sons. But once she divorced her second husband, he stepped in at a moment's notice to take care of their daughter, drive my daughter to chemo, pick their daughter when my daughter was sick. When covid hit and our family couldn't fly up to be with my daughter, he stayed every night in the guest room so she would never be alone, and when my husband and I came up as she was dying, he trusted we'd been careful about covid, and we ate together and he continued to spend every night there. He and I developed a decision making process for dealing with all the issues, the safety of nurses entering the home, and contingency plans for whatever might arise. I was the one upstairs with my daughter when she died, and I ran downstairs and he rushed up, while my husband stayed with our granddaughter. We made every decision together, in harmony, both knowing what my daughter wanted. After she died we stayed and helped him move his stuff into the house as he'd promised to raise their daughter in the only house she could remember, one they'd bought together and he'd relinquished any right to so they could kept their daughter's life as stable as possible. He's a remarkable father, and I hope they enjoyed their steak and ice cream dinner to celebrate. I can't wait to get the vaccine so I can see them again. But our granddaughter is in the best possible hands.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I am going for a walk with a friend. She just got a negative covid result. She's had a cold and laryngitis. We're all paranoid these days. And covid is coming closer. My son-in-law's cousin's nanny got covid and they've had to quarantine. So near and yet so far. The vaccine is here but we have to wait our turn, and while we do we go crazy. Covid seems so mysterious and tricky and puzzling. People get it but don't know how. Tracing is nonexistent. We just have to remain calm, but I, like everyone else am a bit paranoid at this point. Crazy is the new normal, especially with our example in the White House. We're all swerving away from reason and science into voodoo. I look forward to being rational, I just can't quite claim it as my state of mind right now. I'm a bit bonkers.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Seeing the photo of the nurse receiving the covid vaccine in New York was uplifting. I have friends who are doctors or whose kids are doctors or nurses, and what a relief to know they will soon be protected! I'm hoping sometime this coming spring we will be getting our shots as well. The light at the end of the tunnel, as they say. I've spent part of my morning tracking some gifts yet again. Two have been shipped, but no delivery. My guess is they were sent by way of Nova Scotia. I might as well be playing Where's Waldo. It's sunny today and I plan on walking. Otherwise, no plans yet again. Surprise, surprise. I've been reading a strange memoir about a woman's experience in the tech industry in San Francisco, and the world she describes is as bizarre as this year we're in. I thought I'd see what these startups are all about, though I'm not quite clear at this point, but I'm not half way through yet. Her writing style is engaging and honest, and that keeps me going. I'd really like to do almost anything else but read, but can't quite make myself. We watched Columbo last night, the highlight of yesterday. Donald Pleasance was terrific in the mystery, and Julie Harris was delightful. This one was lighter and made fun of wine affectionados. Pleasance was so terrific and you could tell Falk was utterly charmed. It was fun to watch, and just to see Falk young and less mannered in his role as Columbo. Well, these are the highlights of my life, pitiful as they are.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

More rain last night and this morning, and finally there is more predicted in a few days on the weather ap. This morning I listened to Anam Thubten's dharma talk, and he was describing some yogis urge to wander, traveling without purpose or destination, so that they might detach themselves from the chains of routine, comfort and expectation. I can't say I've ever had that urge, as a practitioner, because, firstly, I've been so very rooted by my family and responsibilities, and now that I'm retired, my desire for travel has definite destinations in mind, as well as a bathroom attached to every place I stay. I can't say my travel has suffered because of covid, as I was on call for half the year while our daughter was dying, and in traumatic shock this last half because of her loss. I'm not sure I would have gone anywhere regardless. So I guess you could say I'm well chained, but for the best of reasons, and as my good friend says, You're so tribal. It's true. WHen my kids live away, it's as if an invisible thread ties me to them. Once, years ago, as we were driving past my older daughter's house on our way back from visiting my friend further north, and we weren't stopping, as we'd seen my daughter and granddaughter first, I felt this tug on my heart, as if it was impossible to drive past without seeing them again. I've never forgotten that feeling. Now I have five grandchildren instead of just the one, but I feel it with all of them. Some days, I can't bear to look at their photos, as I experience the pull so badly. I think of this in myself as a good thing. I always knew my parents were by my side, steadfastly there for me, and I want to be that rock for my kids and grandkids, and, actually, my friends as well. Chains of love, as the old song goes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

A little rain did fall, and more is expected tonight. Our poor parched plants are drinking it in. It's a good day to finish my book, the new Grisham, which is a sequel to A Time to Kill. As usual, he tackles important issues of justice, this time the incareration of junviles and the strange laws around them in two states, Texas and Mississippi. But Mississippi is protrayed much more harshly than in the previous book, and it looks like the south, and its culture, has gotten to Grisham. It is not an attractive place to live. The violence and racism is endemic, and though not directly addressed, it does not paint a pretty picture. You find yourself rooting for Jake, the protagonist, to pack up and leave. I think all of us who once lived in the south are re-evaluating what that culture was and still is, to some extent, and the subtle, not just the obvious harm does to its inhabitants. We see situations more clearly as we get older, and we've read more and now understand how ugly the culture was is many respects. But seeing clearly is the first step in changing hearts and minds for the better, and these truths have to be faced.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This ordering online is stress inducing. We sent five gifts weeks ago and they keep changing the ship date. Clearly nothing has been shipped. Even one of my old reliable companies is shipping the four items slowly and separately, so one definitely has reached it's destination, one has been shipped, and two haven't. It's a crazy end to a crazy year. If my daughter and her family quarantine and then test negative, I'll have four stockings to fill, but I think I'll go to either the pharmacy or my local grocery to find stuff. Just these normally ordinary tasks, which were fun in the past, feel insurrmountable. My friend said on the phone yesterday she's not putting up a tree or decorations, but is baking. I realized that was a good idea, once I make the list and have Instacart deliver the ingredients. But what to do? My mother always made divinity, fudge and bourbon balls. I used to make fudge and fruitcake, and some years green salsa. Last year I only made fudge. Maybe banana bread or persimmon bread, as I have frozen my persimmons, and could use them. At least looking through my cookbooks would be fun. No gingerbread house this year, as that involves children. Same with sugar cookies. Now, of course, I myself can't eat any of these goodies, but I'd love to give them to friends. That's settled: baking as therapy for the stress of the holidays@

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

There is some hope of rain this weekend, though no sign of it today. I'd do a rain dance, if I thought it would help. I do love to dance. In the meantime, I'm going to the dentist, writing Christmas cards and doing laundry. So exciting. My daughter sent a photo of the four year old grandson stringing gold balls on red ribbon. It was his own idea. He's just as desperate as I am to occupy himself. But I was heartened yesterday that our state reversed the order to close playgrounds after a huge protest. Talk about classist! Those with big back yards would be fine, but many, many children rely on parks and playgrounds to get fresh air and play safely. The state came to its senses. I notice nobody is paying much attention to the newest orders anyway. Just on our block alone yesterday, my husband and I saw six people without masks. And in rural areas they are partying up a storm. Everyone is so frazzled that they've kind of quit. They either are fatalistic or deny the danger. And three thousand people died yesterday. It's a crazy, crazy world.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is our younger daughter's birthday. We sang Happy Birthday to her on the phone, and we will take a distanced walk with her this morning, but again, everything is locked down and we will not be able to make a fuss. She is seven years younger than her next sibling, and twelve and fourteen years younger than the other two, so she was the youngest and kind of an only child as well. I parented her differently because I was 37 when I had her, and our circumstances has changed. We also moved when she was four, so she only remembers the town we live in now, and she does not remember my parents or my husband's parents. I worked more when she was in preschool, and then less as she got older, so that must have affected her. Her siblings adored her, but seem not to have quite realized she is all grown up. It's frustrating for her. However, she has created a life for herself that is loving and happy, with a wonderful husband, two sons, a ton of friends, and lots of creative outlets. Because of covid, she did not return to teaching after the second child was born, and it's been hard, but she's been the most amazing parent. She's so sweet with us and her in-laws, and brightens up our days. I don't think she has a clue how amazing she is, though we tell her. I wish her joy and fun and lots of adventures in the future post covid.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Another beautiful fall day. I went for a walk this morning with my friend and she stopped to take photos with her phone of a beautiful camilia bush and a blue hydrangea. Since her sister lives in upper New York state, it seems a bit cruel, but oh well. The plants here are confused every year but especially this year, as we've had no rain and the last two day have a high of 70. When we watched Interstellar a couple of nights ago, the earth was becoming a dust bowl and the only hope was to colonize another planet. There are fearful intimations of that for our state. Water is everything. On a more cheerful note, I'm grateful to be able to walk, and people are wearing masks, and they gave the first dose of covid vaccine to a 90 year old in the UK. Perhaps our turn here will come soon. The lemon and orange trees are bursting with fruit, and the birds in my back yard are feasting on the persimmons high up on the tree. There is an abundance which is delightful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I visited a dear friend this morning, out in her back yard and 6 feet away with masks. It is her birthday and I had a gift of two books, since that is really about all we can do these days, as we are totally shut down. I hadn't seen her in a long time, as first her husband had surgery and they had to be super careful, then recently they had a scare of covid which fortunately resolved well. We used to walk, but now she is tutoring from home some students who need extra help, and she finds it frustrating and depressing. One little boy, in particular, makes her sad, as he can't engage well and she really has no idea how to help him online. He is seven. She described a sailing trip she and her husband took recently to an island nearby. It was great to get away. I agreed that walks I've taken were energizing and uplifting. The wind was blowing and the sun was in her eyes and I kept sneezing from some plant in her yard. It was the best we could do. But it wasn't really pleasant.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished my postcards to voters in Georgia yesterday and walked down to mail them. The box is in front of the grocery store seven houses from ours, and it is open seven days a week, except that on Friday, as we drove by after picking up curbside some books I'd ordered, the lights in the store weren't on. A bit later my husband walked to the grocery to see what was going on and the sign said they were closed for a few days and the staff would get tested for covid tomorrow. I had run in masked and careful a few days before and so had my son. If a worker has covid, that could affect my neighborhood dramatically. We carefully ordered more than usual from Instacart, because maybe once a week or less one of us would go to that store for a few items. This dread and fear is getting hard to bear. But it is a beautiful fall day, with persimmons bright orange against our bare leafed tree, and a golden floor of leaves in our yard, patio and steps. My husband is sweeping the leaves off our porch right now, and I am making cards for the grandkids with some of them. I am beginning to address Christmas cards, and I do love cards. So there is joy and fear, peace and dread, ordinary life that would never have been called such before the pandemic.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night we watched "A Thief of Time", a Tony Hillerman TV movie produced by Robert Redford. It's maybe my favorite of the three movies that were produced years ago starring Adam Beach and Wes Studi. Even though the middle one was written by my former creative writing student, Jaimie Redford. Last year Studi won a special Oscar and gave a terrific speech. This year he was named one of the 20 best actors of this century so far by the New York Times. Of course, like everyone else I first encountered him in "Last of the Mohicans". As Mugwa, he ruled the screen. Yes, I had a crush on Daniel Day Lewis, but Studi was electrifying. The last movie I saw with him was "Hostiles", which was wonderful, except for the ending. My husband asked me last night which actor (Indiginous) I preferred: Gary Farmer, Graham Greene, Adam Beach, Eric Sweig, Sheila Tousey, Tantoo Cardinal, or Studi. I paused, because I adore Gary Farmer in "Dead Man", and love the rest, but I went with Studi. His face is distinctive, alive with physicality, and he has such a wide range. I feel he is a national treasure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we drove in separate cars with our younger daughter and her two boys to a garden an hour away. We were relieved when we arrived to note only a couple of cars, and indeed, there were few people, with everyone wearing masks and being careful. Our four year old grandson loved the lights and even in daytime, they were beautiful. There were many Christmas trees, some huge, with giant ornaments. He was fascinated. After, at the gift shop, he picked out an ornament for their tree and I bought him a decoration with bells. We were even able to have lunch outside safely. We all loved getting away, and it upped our spirits considerably. Even the baby was smiley and ate all his lunch. We topped it off with a chocolate leftover from Halloween. We're under threat of further lockdown, so perhaps the garden will close. We will endure whatever we have to, but going SOMEWHERE, ANYWHERE is a great mental health aid. And for any age. We had three generations on extactly the same page.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, our younger son, his wife and our eighteen month old grandson have departed for a life two states away. We are sad, but know it's an excellent choice for them. We had five days with them in the house, with us interacting constantly with our grandson. He may not remember us at all when next we see him. This is ordinary life with the pandemic, and I don't feel sorry for myself, because I know millions of people are cut off from the ones they love. I decided to haul all the toys strewn in the living room and kitchen upstairs to the bedroom with the toddler bed and portacrib. We now officially have no pod, so none of the grandkids will be inside our house. It's been years since the living room has been "adult". Of course, I can't socialize so nobody but us will take advantage of the new roominess, but getting the room cleared out seems appropriate. I don't want to stare at kiddie things and think of what I'm missing. It already feels so quiet in the house. Very strange. We may have to get another dog.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm writing postcards to unsuspecting potential voters in Georgia. I'm not asking them to vote one way or another, just to vote in the runoff. I figure if one person out of all these postcards votes, it will have been worth my hard work. I'm getting quite good at this postcard business. And I'd rather do that than text or phone. As soon as I finish these 50 cards, I'll begin my Christmas card writing. I'm tempted this year to do a form letter. We'll see. Most important to me is the grandkid photos I send. The kids change so much and I like my friends to have up-to-date pictures of them. Plus, I have a brand new grandson this year. I know Christmas cards are old fashioned, but so are a lot of my friends: we appreciate the hand written and specific. I love reading Miss Manners in the newspaper, because she is a dinosaur like me, and still values the effort of cards, thank yous and get wells. She's fighting a hopeless battle but I admire her for it. As long as I can do it, I'm putting in the effort, to show my love and concern. It's a little thing, but most gestures are. And from little things come surprising connections and affections.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my best friend's birthday and we had a zoom meeting to celebrate her. She looked beautiful, and her son, daughter-in-law and two granddaughters were so loving and fun. It was nice to see her friends online as well. I texted her this morning and she said we would have to take a trip the minute we are vaccinated and can travel again. I have so many terrific memories of our trips. We have been to Santa Fe twice, Quebec City and Montreal, Morocco (Marrakesh, Fez, Rabat, Casablanca, Ifrane, Meknes), Florence and environs, and little trips to Calistoga, Vashon Island and other places. She has been like a sister to me, and beside me at all of my kids' weddings and most graduations. She's supported me through my kid's illness, my parents' deaths, my brother's suicide, and my daughter's death from breast cancer. She's been a rock. We talk for at least an hour a week on the phone, and we laugh and tease and moan and groan and complain. I don't think I could survive without her love and caring. I deeply appreciate the serendipity of meeting her in a conscious raising group 47 years ago and being on a path with her ever since. Other friends and I have parted ways, but she and I have fought to keep our friendship relevant and rich. There is nothing I don't tell her, and that means my petty, judgemental, ungenerous side and not just the bright path I struggle to follow. She knows who I am. And it's a treasure beyond imagining to have someone SEE me. I hope I do the same for her.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We are enjoying the last three days with our son, daughter-in-law and grandson. I'm trying to be awake to the little moments which will stockpile my memory bank. After they are gone I will look through my IPhotos again and again. I know, because that's what I do to see my granddaughter, and other three grandsons. I am very happy I have the IPhone, though it took me a while to figure it out, and I can't say I know how lots of things work on it. But it's been a lifesaver during this pandemic, and I'm grateful. I'm also grateful to my practice, which has trained me to notice and appreciate the tiny instants of joy and love that happen frequently and can pass us by if we aren't aware. One of the things I miss about isolation is the moments of serendipity with stranges: the stopping to admire another walker's dog and learn her name, the jokes while waiting in line, the deep conversation outside the doctor's office with a stranger, the chat at the park as I watch my grandchild. I adored those connections. Hopefully we will again feel safe for those interactions that make our days delightful, surprising and heart warming.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It was our three now four year old grandson's birthday yesterday. We took a distanced, masked walk with them in the morning, while he rode his scoot bike, then in the afternoon they were on their deck and we were below while he opened presents and ate cake. Then right at dark, we took two separate cars and drove through an area downtown that had lights and magical people in costumes and he was thrilled so much they looped around and did the drive again. My husband and I headed back home. Our grandson seemed okay but with no kids, which he's old enough to want, it was a bit sad. Luckily, he's in a preschool and Monday his parents will go in with him and tell a story. He will the the birthday boy. First our now five year old had to not have a party or friends, now this one. The two younger ones are fortunately oblivious, but our twelve year old turns 13 in April and I hope somehow she can have a real celebration. Her mother is gone, so all the hoopla will have come from her dad, unless we can be there by then. it seems doubtful. The cost of this pandemic to our children is heavy. No school, no playmates, no mentors, no music, no sports, no museums, zoos and parks. How will this change them? I have no idea, but I hope all of them are supported, feel safe, and are loved.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our Thanksgiving was fine, but the sadness was wrapped around it. Our daughter, son-in-law and their two kids: we sat outside in masks talking, but not holding or hugging the nine month old and almost four year old. They had their meal alone, though I brought them a pumpkin pie. Our older son, his wife and our five year old grandson: Facetiming and reassuring our grandson we would all get together in the spring. Our granddaughter and ex son-in-law: alone with a chicken dinner without her mom or any of us to help her through the day. And even our meal: one of the last together, as they leave next Thursday morning for a new life two states away. Yet we did it. I texted friends as well, but no need to call: we are all doing the best we can to remain hopeful, healthy, stable and sensible. It's not fun, but necessary. I hope others were wise and we do not see the huge increase in covid that is expected. Meanwhile, the weather is gorgeous: cool, crisp, sunny and with amazing leaves on the trees and on the ground. Nature seems happy for now. Maybe that's good enough.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Have you ever tried to make gluten free pastry crust? Well I did last night, and it did not work out so well. The crust seemed, well, slimy and chilling it in the refrigerator for hours made it look okay until I tried to roll it out. It crumbled like landmarks in a disaster movie. I decided to think of a jugsaw puzzle, which, by the way, I am horrible doing, and I pieced and pressed and mushed together a crust, which will fool no one. I figure they can eat the pumpkin filling and whip cream and leave the crust. My son is gluten free, and thank goodness I asked him to make the other pie, a cranberry curd recipe. Hopefully he knows how to do this better than I do. I've made okay popovers, scones and muffins, but a while ago when I tried making chocolate chip cookies which turned out melted down and crispy. If only they had gluten free ready made pie crusts. They probably do, but it's too late for me. This baby is going to have to do. More stuffing, anyone?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We watched our eighteen month old grandson today, and we did a lot of cleaning. He made us sweep the floor and use a dustpan to dump the dirt into the trash can. Then, this afternoon, he supervised me getting rid of all the leaves which had fallen onto the plants and bushes in the back yard. Afterward I had to sweep the studio deck and finally, my husband and I helped him pick all the tree debris out of the cracks between the boards on the deck. He likes things neat and tidy. I'm sure the impulse will evaporate when he can actually clean. He likes his hands wiped right after he eats, and loves putting toys away. Of course, he gets them all strewn about again but he keeps organizing in between. Will he be a great house husband? It's possible. But probably not. In the meantime, we pass the time getting down on his level and noticing all the feathers, leaves, dust balls and food crumbs that otherwise would go unnoticed. This has it's good and bad side, but I now know what a floor looks like from a dog's point of view.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night I broke down and agreed to watch "The Mummy" with my husband, who is all boy in regards to films. He likes the action packed, science fiction loaded, goofy and implausible world. He knows I tolerate some of these films, but I'm done with the mummy movies. Afterward, he looked in his film rating book and was stunned to discover it received only 1 1/2 stars. He was shocked. I was not. He attempted to arouse me to the defense of the film, but I actually thought the review was accurate. He won't watch foreign films, BBC films and most comedies. We agree on some sci fy and dramas and comedies, but there is very little overlap. Documentaries he won't watch. Two TVs, you say? Neither of us watches enough for that, and as I get older my pull to movies gets weaker. About all my top faves are foreign, with the exception of Terence Malik's "The New World", but in the past this was not a problem, as I had my movie buddies, one for Spike Lee films and other African American films, one for strange foreign films like "The Lobster", another for ridiculous romantic comedies. But with the movie theaters shut, I'm stuck with my beloved husband and compromises I'd be ashamed to admit. Ah, well, it's good for people skills, this compromise business, and I believe I could now negotiate peace between Iran and Israel, if anyone would let me try!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just spent almost two hours talking to a friend who lives a couple of states away. Yesterday I talked to a friend on the east coast for just as long. I feel much better after we talk. This morning my husband and I took out our new car of one week for a drive. We saw a lot of fall folliage and discovered some more things about the car, such as not knowing how to set up the phone in sync and that my husband needs to adjust his seat to be more comfortable. We were, as they say, all dressed up with nowhere to go. We put 50 more miles onto the car that had only 18 miles before. We don't really need a car right now, except that our other car we took to the cabin was 25 years old, and we did not want to put more money into it to sell it, and we need something reliable in the mountains. And now, if we ever need a quick getaway, we're set. I'm thinking fire, earthquake or other catastrophes. While driving we noticed a license plate that said SNOWS, and I told my husband I realized I must have a criminal mind, because I would not want such an easily remembered plate. I prefer annonymity. What would I be escaping from? Maybe this covid prison we're all in.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our daughter talked us into walking with her this morning. We were both feeling depressed, and plans to go out to a preserve seemed daunting. In the end, we walked around our neighborhood, collected leaves and admired the Koi fish in a neighbor's pond. We both feel better having seen our grandsons, and the sensitivity our daughter shows is touching. My husband couldn't sleep last night because of Trump's antics and the surge of covid. I slept but am slightly under the weather probably from arthritis in my lower spine. We'll take it easy today and try to rebalance ourselves. i am so grateful to our daughter for her care and love. She is grieving as well, but still has love to give. I feel such compassion for people everywhere who are frightened and struggling to survive. They need support and reassurance, and we have a leader who is focused on himself and winning at all costs. I guess you could say we deserve him, as many voted for him yet again, but I don't think those of us who voted for Biden deserve this chaos and neither do they. Somehow they have bought his facade of power and wealth as if by associating with him it will rub off on them. The myth is that life is simple and simple solutions will keep us safe and well. Growing up requires accepting that this isn't so. Issues are complex, we are all interdependent whether we like it or not, and the compassion we show will come back to us when we need it. I have no hope for Trump or his fans growing up, because then they'd have to take RESPONSIBILITY for their actions, instead of scapegoating others. All I ask is that the election that put power in the hands of Biden be respected so we can move on and try to tackle our many problems with energy and purpose, not for ourselves, but for the greater good.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I took a long walk with a friend this morning, then my husband and I ordered from Instacart and set to work after labeling our photo albums as to year and trips. My husband got engrossed in the photos, but for me it was disturbing. There were many beautiful photos of my daughter, and I could not reconcile them with the fact of her death. I explained to my husband I was disturbed, and after we had lunch we swiftly finished up. I don't know if my kids or grandkids will even want these photos, as they are not convenient and not easily transferable to their phones and laptops. In some I hardly recognize myself, but I saw enough to know I will never, ever have a short haircut again. The horror! Even seeing how black my hair was seems strange now. And there are many photos we couldn't identify. I know I know them, but who ARE they? The ebb and flow of friendships is obvious when you look at the albums: someone who was your best friend disappears, and events that seemed so important no longer matter to you. But my kids' photos are still fun and so sweet. Will they all be thrown away after I'm gone? I have no idea. Ancient history, as they say. There is one historian in the family. Maybe he will keep them. But I'm no longer attached. I'm just the parent and grandparent. And they will do what they do.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today was "off" for me. It took a long time to get my grandson to sleep for his nap, he didn't really eat any lunch, and we couldn't have him play outside because it was so wet from yesterday's rain. I pulled out the Little Critters and that helped, but he was a bit bored. Then I was supposed to have a phone consult with my doctor as I had no renewals on three prescriptions, and she was over an hour off in calling, and then I had to tell her about my daughter dying and she said I could have antidepressants, whic I don't feel I need. I also have to get lab work, and that makes me nervous, with the covid surge. Then I had to call my pharmacy, wait twenty minutes on hold, so I could get the meds sent to my house. I missed saying goodbye to my grandson, and I was too grumpy to cook dinner, so we made BLTs. I feel like my fur has been rubbed the wrong way. I left my husband watching THX 1138 and came out to my studio to order some more Christmas gifts, but I'm too rattled. I'll leave it until tomorrow. I find myself very disturbed around any medical stuff since my daughter's death, so there definitely is PTSD going on, and I try to remain rational, but I'm fighting aversion to medicine and doctors. I know they are heros and overwhelmed, but it triggers a deep disturbance in me when I flash back to my daughter's disease and death. It's been almost six months, but it seems like yesterday. A nightmare I cannot awaken from. Grief is like that.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a cleansing rain today, a nice big drink of water. I managed to get a walk in right before the shower, and then stayed in the rest of the day to read a murder mystery. I also had a nice long talk with my daughter, and she tried Facetiming with my baby grandson, who burst into tears the minute he saw my face. He sees me only about once a week and with a mask on, so he doesn't even know my features. Stranger fear. It hurts a bit, but such is the pandemic world. We have decided only to see them outside and with masks, so no Thanksgiving with them. We will be with our younger son, his wife, and toddler, because they are our pod and they are moving two states away at the beginning of December, and then we will not see them for many months. Everything here is shutting back down, and we are all a bit more fearful than this summer. In the U.S. there was an 81% jump in cases this week. It's hard to wrap my mind around. And our area has become more vulnerable. Now the jump is in all zipcodes and areas, not just in pockets. I'm hopeful Biden will quickly address and organize a response when he's president, but he has the roadblock of Trump right now. The red states are overwhelmed, but Trump doesn't even care about his fans. Cruel and callous, he turns his back on his death and destruction. The entire situation is shameful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My women's group met again yesterday, and we all find ourselves confronting the same dilemas: missing grandchildren, how to keep safe, how to keep sane and how to keep feeling connected when there is very little or no connection. We supported each other in our limits for the holidays while acknowledging how much it hurts to not see kids and grandkids who are far away and even nearby. The emotional cost is high, but in our age bracket there really is little choice. We struggle together, and know exactly where the other is coming from. Next meeting may be in the rainy season, and so we will have to be flexible. I offered my garage, but that was considered a dismal alternative, so we may have to suddenly rearrange the meeting to a dry day. If you could see us, we are pretty funny: all bundled up in parkas, scarves and masks, like a polar bear club. Luckily for us, the temperature never dips too much, and we can sit outside with thermoses of tea and talk. If we were in snow country we couldn't meet. So I'm grateful that we have this group, and we, of course, can talk to each other via devices in between. Old lady power, yaaaah.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The rain yesterday was like a blessing, and the plants and trees are newly washed today. We're hoping Tuesday brings more rain. I'm remembering seeing the Anasazi sites in the southwest and the speculation about why those people disappeared, one theory being drought drove them away. A thousand years of trading and coexistence destroyed by drought. I can vividly imagine it now. We perhaps are the end people for a once flourishing area squandered by ego and arrogance. We determined to expand, tear down forests, divert waters and build in desert. Now we will migrate, but to where? I know I won't see it, but I can imagine it. Honoring nature and the land has always been the wise option, but wisdom is in short supply in our culture and others. We have no far reaching sight to guide us. Accepting less instead of wanting more is counter to our very being at this point. We need a whole lot of people for role models and guides to this new, diminished yet more balanced world. I hope January 20 brings us some.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I went to the zoo today with our younger daughter and her two boys, the older of who got a negative covid test last night. We wore masks and socially distanced, and we had purchased tickets before hand. So there were not crowds, and people obeyed the rules. Our nine month old grandson saw animals for the first time: giraffes, elephants, zebras, baboons, gibbons, camels and our favorite, a big black pig. It felt wonderful to be out SEEING something, but that might be it for bravery for a while. Our state surpassed one million cases, and doctors, nurses and hospitals are overwhelmed everywhere. The is not a time to let our guard down. I'm getting used to the idea of hunkering down for the holidays and hoping for the best in the new year. Anything else seems crazy. Because nobody is in control of this pandemic. We are at its mercy. Why people are not being careful is beyond my conprehension. Don't they know, at this point, people who've struggled with covid or died? Don't they care? Wishing it away is not possible. And yet, there is the president closing his eyes, hands over his ears, refusing to see the devastation he has wrought. And his supporters follow that example. It's purely insane.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I ate lunch outside at our friends' house, and it was a delightful break from our routine. She made lovely squash soup and we had pizza as well, from our local bakery. It wasa chilly though, so despite our jackets, they turned the deck heater on. We realize this outside eating will not be viable soon. Adjust and adapt, adjust and adapt. That's what we all do these days. I have ordered my Christmas cards and made a list of things to do around the holidays. Not much, but I don't mind that break. I'm letting the joy come from figuring out what to get the grandkids, and ordering a new stocking for the little one who wasn't even born last year. Whether I decorate or not will be decided by whether my daughter, and her family, keep the three year old out of preschool and test before. I'm okay either way, at this point. Having been careful for so long, it's crazy to get sloppy now. I fear covid, and my own vulnerability to it. But at my age, there is always some health threat to fear; it's just part of the package of being fortunate enough to still be alive and kicking. I would say I'm adjusting and adapting nicely.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday was cold for us, which of course does not mean we'd get any sympathy from the rest of the country, but the chill was a bit disconcerting. It fits in with the strange goings on in Washington, D.C., where it seems Republicans want to ignore the election and keep on as if it had never occurred. Didn't they swear to uphold the Constitution? Aren't they elected by us? It does send a chill up my spine. Dr. Strangelove and how I decided to declare the U.S. my fiefdom. Most of us in this country want a break from this craziness, so we can stop the pandemic and do work for the people. But the people who find this attractive? Do they really want to see what having no power and representation looks like? This is a bully's game: to make decent people stand down and let them take over the schoolyard. We saw The Untouchables a couple of nights ago, as a nod to Sean Connery, and at one point we turned to each other and said "mafia". Robert de Niro playing Al Capone was Trump personified. Let's hope sanity prevails, because this is no game we're playing, this is the stability of our nation. Great Britain found out when Brexit played out and people realized they had wrought suffering and havoc on themselves. Bullies expect to be held in check, because they have no self mechanism to turn off the destruction. Trump will not concede, so an alternate plan must be put in place. But McConnell has broken his vows as a senator. He should be impeached.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's turned chilly here and today we bundled up to stroll with our grandson and then hang out in the backyard this afternoon. Our grandson was begging up to fill the watering can, but no way, Jose. I'm thinking more about the grandkids presents for Christmas, and scouring catalogues to find fun gifts. We may be having Christmas by ourselves, but I've adjusted. Also, I've been super fortunate with my kids and grandkids, so this would be the first Christmas with no one. I can handle it. I turn on the radio station that plays Christmas music right at Thanksgiving and drive my husband insane until New Years. I feel like Biden's win has tempered my sorrow and downright cheered me up. I wanted a woman president, but one step at a time, I guess. I'm busy being happy we have a woman vice president, and she is a woman I admire, so who knows? She may make it all the way. I'm so happy for the female part of the human race. We need to be seen as competent, powerful, and inspiring. She all of that and more.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Friday at the cabin we scattered the ashes of our dog who died sixteen years ago. His ashes have been in the cabin all those years, because he loved the cabin and fetching tennis balls in the lake and just being there with us. We flung them behind the cabin and I chanted and my husband said some words. Our younger son brought his dog's ashes up and we then walked to the lake and scattered his ashes. He died when our grandson was a new baby, and they've kept the ashes with them, but felt, as they are now moving out of state, that as he loved being at the cabin with them he would like to be part of the lake. And they will return and when they are swimming or canoeing he will be all around them. It felt healing to all of us, and then the next day we had the news of Biden's win, and it felt as if some of our sorrow of the last year lifted a bit. My husband and I have decided to scatter our other two dogs ashes in our back yard, which they loved better than the cabin. Still to come: scattering my brother's ashes after his death five years ago, and scattering part of our daughter's ashes next summer, when hopefully we can all be together. I do believe we are all one organism and completely and forever interconnected. I've always felt that way, since I was a child. It is comforting, but to me it is truth as well.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm very happy today that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris will be our leaders in January. I think of my two half South Asian kids, and I'm so glad for them, though my daughter has not lived to see this day. Her daughter is seeing it. I'm proud of the campaign they ran, and for all the voters who turned out despite covid and all the misinformation slung at us. I feel hopeful again, and I can turn on the radio now, or even the TV, without terror and stress. I know our country is divided, but with the right leadership that can be bridged for many more of us. Just the thought of a civil level of discourse is easing my anxiety. Civility is a start. I was glad to avoid the emails, texts and polls this past week, instead walking and playing with my eighteen month old grandchild, and basking in his joy and innocence. We played spades after he went to bad, and cheerfully woke up around 4:30 each morning to entertain him. I appreciated the chance to see more of him, our son and daughter-in-law before they move two states away. We saw the first snow at the cabin last night and today, and it brought back many happy memories of times at the cabin skiing, sliding on ice, tobagganing and making snow people. The cold air felt clean and crisp, and then the news Biden had won. It was a good day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished watching via zoom a two and a half hour retreat "Healing the World" My teacher and three others, including JoAnna Macy, spoke about how out of balance our world is, and I found it helpful. Praying for a restoration of sanity and balance among us humans and on behalf of the earth seemed a good plan leading up to the election. Tomorrow my husband and I are going to our cabin to be with our younger son, his wife, and son. I don't want media blaring at me and analyzing. I feel like I cannot stand the stress. Being among the big trees, listening to the ravens and watching the ospreys fish is a better use of my time and more protective of my mental health. Yesterday I packaged up 120 bags of candy, set out the signs for our neighborhood group, and watched for a while from the roof of the garage as families came by and plucked up the goodies. I almost didn't do it, but then that seemed defeatest, as if I was quitting because of the virus. There was a safe way to trick or treat, and I supported that concept. We actually went over to our younger daughter's house to see those two grandkids in their costumes: a pirate and a lion. They were adorable, and pleased we came. I received prompt photos from the other grandkids: a catapillar, a black cat and a Powderpuff girl. I looked at them on and off all evening, and felt glad that everyone was having fun. Then my husband and I watched "Them", a fifties film with B actors who became TV stars: James Witmore, Fess Parker, James Arness and Leonard Nimoy. Giant ants had mutated after a nuclear test site in New Mexico created a master race of ants who were going to take over the world. The special effects didn't hold up, but it was pretty funny. Better than thinking about the election, anyway.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I took a walk this morning - backwards. I suggested it, and it's funny how I noticed different plants, houses, trees, just because I was heading up instead of down. Psychologically, I bet my desire was to wind 2020 backward and have a redo: my daughter does a trial and it's successful and the cancer is gone, covid is attacked with all our resources and nipped in the bud, the president resigns having discovered his better nature, we have rain all summer and therefore no wildfires, people realize we need each other so the go-it-alone attitude becomes discredited, we decide women are equal and should be paid accordingly, as a country we agree that all of us deserve health care not tied to our jobs or financial situation or race, and police disarm themselves and try to keep the peace by negotiation skills and services that give hope to races previously targeted and violence against women severely declines as the penalties for abuse are strengthened and women start calling out harassers and abusers and are protected at home and in the workplace. Anyone want to walk backwards with me?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had two long conversations yesterday with friends, and it helps. Today we are seeing our younger daughter and two grandsons with masks on outside. It's coldish today, so it won't be great to have our lunch on the patio, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I managed yesterday to find Halloween candy at the store down the street, and tomorrow I will put it out individually zip loked and lined up on my driveway and bench by the sidewalk. Our grandchildren have safe plans and we will enjoy the photos of them in their costumes. We usually only follow one of them around anyway, as they are in different neighborhoods and cities. I've always loved Halloween because of the costuming thing. My husband and I used to go to parties and had great fun coming up with our costumes. I've been in charge of costumes for a few school productions that my kids were in, and some where they were not involved, like the Shakespeare plays at a nearby elementary school. My granddaughter right now has an interest in costume design and a couple of months ago I sent her a few costume design books, which I think she enjoyed. I used to hunt for used costumes for her when she was little, but now that she is twelve she designs her own, and is delighted with the results. I'm sure our grandkids will manage the candy and playfulness, limited though it may be. Our one grandson is at his preschool parading in costume as we speak. It makes me happy to think about them.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a great idea the other day, if I do say so myself, that my husband try one of the lego sets instead of his usual jigsaw puzzles. He's done about every jigsaw out there, and as a kid he used to make model airplanes and ships. He couldn't get the kit he wanted, as a lot of the kits are out of stock (due to the desperation of covid no doubt), but he's working on a kind of train engine that gives me a headache just to look at. He had wanted to try a piano that really plays, but it's now on the company wish list. Anyway, he's clearly enjoying the challenge, Next week we are going to our cabin to avoid all the election coverage. Our younger son, his wife, and son are already up there. That's my blow for mental sanity. I feel besieged at home, and I voted two weeks ago. Up there our phones don't work and there is no internet at all. No TV, just a radio. There won't be many people there because the lake is down and no snow yet, so no skiing. Just crisp fall air, a fire in the franklin stove and lots of hot cocoa. Yes, I'm burying my head in the sand, but why not? I'm powerless to do anything more at this point. Retreat is my best strategy.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I write in a small studio that used to be a tool shed. For many years, my Zen teacher did her interviews in it, and I felt good knowing her good dharma and caring was happening in the same space in which I worked. I usually talked to her in my yard at some point as well as interviewing with her myself. Now she has not been here in a few years, and died recently, but I feel her aura. In the time since the covid my daughter-in-law has worked here, as their place is tiny and they have a toddler, whom I babysit a couple of days a week. Now she will be moving, and any work done in the space will be mine. I'm hoping I can get back to work on grandparent poems that I stopped writing when it was clear my older daughter's cancer had returned. And also, to write a reminiscence of her to honor her life. I do have a room of my own. Virginia Woolf would be encouraging, and yet that room is daunting. I have to not have an overview of what might happen, because expectations are my downfall. Then I measure myself against those expectations, disappoint myself, and give up. I have a habit of writing, and I'm hoping that history will keep me going without judgement. We'll see. But my space has been a place of productivity for others and for myself in the past, and I hope it will again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband asked me this morning if there was any good news, and I answered in the negative. I couldn't find one hopeful story on my phone. It's almost a joke. At least sometimes a dog has traveled a thousand miles back to his owner or a bear cub has been saved from a fire. Not today. I then ate breakfast and talked to my therapist. I told her with the pandemic there are so many decisions to be made, and then remade, then re-thought out again that by noon I quit with a headache. Just getting Halloween candy seemed insurmountable today. I have to order it and zip lock bags from InstaCart and have them delivered, put them a foot apart at the foot of my steps and hope for the best. Do I see a friend masked and social distanced? What if it's cold? Do I need to order a patio heater? It's easier to be a hermit. I strolled, masked and distanced with my daughter and her baby today, but we both thought the scary Halloween decorations we strolled past were nothing compared to the state of the nation and the pandemic. Trying to keep up with what's "safe" is exhausting. The numbers are up this week, so should I do anything different? Wrap myself in cling wrap? Steralize all my food in the dishwasher? Like everyone else, I'm frazzled. Completely. All decision making seems relentless and endless. Last night I watched a Hallmark movie about a man who gets hit by a girl on a bike and has amnesia. Lucky guy!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We celebrated our daughter-in-law's birthday last night here. In the past we would have everyone out to dinner, and with eight adults and four kids it would feel like a real party, even though our daughter and granddaughter in another state would not be present. Now that daughter is gone, and our ex son-in-law and granddaughter cannot come because of covid, the expense and the time off. So it was just our younger son, daughter-in-law and grandson, but we tried to make it fun. I pulled out party hats and plastic leis, and we ordered food delivered from a favorite restaurant. The food was delayed, but we got it still warm, and on their way home they dropped off a part of the cake for our younger daughter, her husband and two kids. But everything is so complicated, and enforces the sense of being splintered as a family. The same will hold true for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and from the discussion at my women's group yesterday morning, each of them is torn in the same kinds of ways. Maybe they can see one kid and the grandkids, but not the others. The sense of FAMILY is blurred. So the absence is always with us, even in partial togetherness. I know there are people in our country ignoring safety and gathering in large groups, defying caution. But I could not do that without feeling the risk to myself and some of my kids who have health issues. I'm bound to be torn. And at this moment I'm feeling sadness for all the families in this country, but especially those completely isolated from loved ones or without people who care about them. I hope we do a better job of engaging with them so they don't sink into despair. We should have calls to these people, as we do for voting. I wonder if anyone is doing this.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The women's group I'm in met this morning, dressed warmly, and we had a lively conversation about our lives in this age of covid. I believe we all felt supported by each other. I told them I realized that after having read three memoirs in a row I realized I wanted to write about my daughter, because she was what I was thinking about. It might be a gift to my granddaughter someday. Since about a year ago I haven't worked on my grandchildren poems or anything other than this blog and my gratitude journal, and I feel a yearning to speak again in a more sustained way. I cannot, of course, capture her complexity or vibrancy, but I am now willing to try. I'm sure others are writing about her as well, and I don't know as much about her adult life after she moved to Hew York, then Spain, then Prague, then Morroco,but I can describe what I do know. I visited her in all those places as well. Writing about my trip to India to visit her would be interesting. I've always imagined she would write about me after I died, so this is a strange, unnatural position to be in, but there it is. She is gone, I am left to tell some of the tale.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I signed up for texting for Moms Rising. It is daring for me and I hope I don't feel uncomfortable when I do it. I just want to make the effort, since I can't do anything face to face. And I don't have to prostlatize because we just encourage people to vote, we don't talk politics. I wouldn't want anyone trying to persuade me to vote a certain way, so I will not inflict that on others. It's a dark and dreary day today, but we're taking care of our 18 month old grandson, so he will entertain us. He's quite a character, and manages to boss us around completely in the most adorable way: he takes our hand and leads us to what he wants to do. Turn on the music, a snack, outside, turn on the hose, take a walk, swing in the hammock. He schedules us beautifully. So today is taken care of, and tonight we will flop in front of the TV for a dose of Jane Austen. Last night we watched Mansfield Park, tonight, perhaps Northanger Abbey.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we drove in separate cars to a pumpkin patch on a dairy farm about an hour away. We all wore masks, except the baby, but our three year old grandson kept his on and his distance, bless his heart. The farm was well structured for social distancing and everyone was masked. Our grandson loved the hay maze and the pyramids of hay to climb, and there were cows and calves and goats. We took a long leisurely time to choose pumpkins in the field, and were pleased with our selections. I bought homemade ice cream for our grandson and my husband, and the baby tried to eat handfuls of hay. The cows were very sweet and friendly, and a huge black one, almost the size of an elephant, named Bruno delighted me. We packed up our pumpkins and said goodbye to each other, relieved we had managed to have a fun outing full of Halloween cheer despite the covid. I was so happy for our grandson. He knew he was supposed to pick pumpkins, and we succeeded in doing so. He kept his tiny white pumpkin in his hands, proud and pleased. And he picked out one for daddy too.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I picked up some new books today, ordered a birthday cake, sent two books to a friend and shopped for a few necessities at my local grocery seven houses away. Then I opened one of my new books and plunged in. It is a memoir, as were the last two books I read: Memorial Drive and Miracle Country, both riveting and terrific language. All three have as part of the story the death of a parent, and I'm grieving so they hit home. I also called my former son-in-law's mother, whom I adore, since it is her birthday today. We always laugh a lot, and spend time admiring our mutual granddaughter. Tomorrow we're caravaning to a pumpkin patch to witness our three year old grandson pick out punkins. Masks on, social distance, separate cars, but we'll do our best. My street has a plan to have a distanced parade at five pm then have treats individually bagged at the bottom of the steps so kids don't have to touch anything. I'm hoping it all goes well. The trying is the important part. We don't want this pandemic to defeat us, though it sets us back.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

All our 18 month old grandson wants to do is water. We partially fill a watering can, he lumberingly carries it to some plants and pours it on the plants and himself. He would do this a hundred times if we would let him. Afterward I change his shirt, and try to entice him to do something else. He wants to be outside all day. We swing in the hammock, look for bugs under rocks and flowerpots, he "climbs" a tree (bush) and rings the bells I have scattered around the yard. What I will do when it's cold out I have no idea. Today he took our hands, led us down the path to the sidewalk, pointed at the garage door and we knew he wanted a stroll. We got out the umbrella stroller and off we went right after breakfast, and found it was less crowded on the sidewalks and cool and comfortable. He keeps us fit. Since he's always on the move, we are too. It beats the gym, that's for sure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been talking to my therapist weekly and today she gave me a pep talk that helped focus me. What's happening is that all my old traumas have aroused themselves to fold into my grief over my daughter: my mother's cancer when I was fourteen, our move across country to a new high school where I knew no one, my elopement at nineteen, my first husband's abuse,my brother's alcoholism, my best friend's suicide, my brother's suicide, and now my daughter's death. I need to be getting out more with friends, making plans, not being so passive about Facetiming my grandkids, just making the effort not to slide into depression. I had a great talk with a friend two days ago, and last night with my daughter's childhood best friend, and today my best pal here and I walked then radically stopped in to get diet cokes and sit outside, with masks whenever we weren't sipping. It was the first diet coke either of us had had since the lockdown. It tasted mighty delicious. I told her yesterday when my husband and I were strolling our grandson, since it was trash day, I noticed everyone had a box of diet coke or diet pepsi to recycle. In hard times, a little vice helps. It sure perked up my morning!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My immediate family had a sweet zoom meeting to remember our daughter, and it was lovely hearing people's stories, and her daughter was there listening most of the time so she learned more about her mother. Right before the call, I was anxious and dreading it, but probably that was because each day her death feels more final, and now she has missed her birthday, and such an important one. Fifty. When I approached my fiftieth, I rented a hall, hired a band, a caterer, decorated with friends and had a blast. The band had a soul singer and I was crazy about the music. I was on the dance floor all night long and neighbors sent the police, even though it was before ten, as the party had to be over by then. My kids, my best friends, and all their kids were there. I had cut my hair to an inch, and though that turned out to not be a good look for me, that's just how I was feeling: anything goes now, ego be gone, I'm gonna grow old wildly and have lots of fun. And I have. I deeply wish my daughter could have done the same. She was a butterfly, I'm a tortoise. She did pack it in, though, and last nights reminescences proved it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today would have been our daughter's fiftieth birthday. She was beautiful, intelligent, creative, moody, judgemental, loving, thoughtful, passionate, risktaking, a glue sticking our family together. We were all a little afraid of her intensity, but being in her presence was a gift. She adored her daughter and thought about her future, her college, her safety, her support. Since our granddaughter is so very much like her mother, we know she will be fine in the long run, though her grief right now is immerserable. My daughter rushed out of my body twenty nine minutes after we drove quickly to the nearby hospital. She didn't need any doctor. When my father was coming to pick us up from the hospital after a couple of days, I had a panic because the nurses we not bringing her back in to me. I thought something was wrong. But there she was, a tiny tiger ready for battle with the world. She rode a pony we leased by five, had martial arts lessons at six, listened to Tillie Olsen and Lucille Clifton as a toddler, and burned her way through her life, impressing everyone with her skills, her tenacity and capacity for love. She loved art and traveling and ideas and books and friends and family that elevated all of us. She did not want to die, but she never complained as she fought for her life and motherhood, never got angry at us, she battled on. She took her daughter on amazing trips, reconnected with her Fiji relatives, stockpiled memories for her to be comforted after she was gone. There is no way to describe how much we all miss her. I walk stunned in a world without her. She is my child, my baby girl, my best self, my freed bird who soars somewhere above, now free from the pain and indignities of cancer. I love you with all my heart.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

In the paper this morning was a photo of a five year old boy pointing his finger at where he had spotted a ring tailed lemur. This lemur had been stolen from the zoo and had been let go in a nearby park, after the thief realized he was in big trouble (he was caught later). What I love about the photo is that the magic of seeing a lemur is blurred in a five year old, because their books tell them amazing wonderful things happen. He saw what others did not because of his openness to everything real or imagined. When my kids were children, we were driving in Rocky Mountain Park and our older son insisted he saw a flamingo. We whizzed by and my husband and I were delighted by his imagination. We told the story many times. But recently, our son said he researched and it was plausible and rational that there really was a flamingo there, on a migratory pathway and temporarily halted for a touch down. We will never know for sure, but his world was bigger and more open to whatever comes than his parents' world. We have eyes but do not see.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

High temperatures and winds all day. Our power was out this morning. We visited our two grandsons social distancing in their back yard. I've been really depressed, perhaps as a lead up to our daughter's birthday Sunday. Too many losses and too much bravery for too long. I've been crying and this afternoon I lay on my bed and just dozed. I'm exhausted mentally. Everything seems scattered and chaotic. If I glancee at the news on my phone there are so many crises and contractions and predictions that my head hurts. I hope to have a quiet weekend and then do the zoom with family on the birthday. I can think of a million stories to tell about her, but have settled on one where my husband and I met her in Madrid and traveled to Toledo. Her idea, a great idea, and it was a magical weekend. It completely changed my assessment of El Greco and marzipan. When we strolled the streets it was as if it was the fourteenth century. A parador luncheon on the adjacent hillside the last morning was maybe the best meal ever. She had that fearlessness and passion that made you trust her. You knew you were in for an adventure. She made me braver and stronger. I had so many adventures with her that I would not have planned on my own. And some of it rubbed off on me. Now she's resting, and the world feels bereft of it's beating heart.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's very hot here but I took two long walks, first in the morning with my friend where we stopped for iced lattes, then with my daughter and grandbaby in the afternoon trying to stay in the shade and keep cool. I actually love hot weather, or used to, before drought and fire added the dread element. I did well adjusting to living in Fiji, better than my husband who was born and raised there. I love the Southwest, especially New Mexico and Northern Arizona. But I don't like air conditioning, which I suppose I'd succumb to if I lived there. It's better to visit. I no longer like cold weather at all, except to visit it. Our treks to the cabin in winter have tapered off, as the charm of snow and ice has long ago melted. I don't like to be bundled up and fumbling in gloves and hat and boots. So today I tried to ignore the wind, not think of flames bursting and grasses burning, and enjoyed the "summer". We only get it occasionally, for brief periods, and sometimes in strange months, like February. But then, right now, EVERYTHING is strange.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got up early this morning to send some flowers and organize myself before my wee grandson arrives. I love getting up at dawn, but am married to a husband who likes to sleep in. He also has this habit of sleeping badly after he does his zoom choruses Monday and Tuesday nights. He reves him up and leaves him restless. Singing is powerful, and yet I know it brings up loss for him. They cannot hear each other sing, and the last thing that will be resumed after the pandemic winds down is hundreds of older people in a chorus. But he loves it so. Like puzzles, suduku and walking, the singing calms and eases him. Now it's more about talking to others on zoom and listening to lectures and all the prerifery. In his heart he wants to stand with his frends and open his chest and heart and sing freely in a huge room. So at night he wrestles out of all the contrictions of the pandemic and attempts to run and soar and fly.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm stocking up on books my Buddhist teacher has written that I've not read yet. Insurance against despair, I guess. I finished the new mystery by Val McDermid last night, and she cleverly wove the pandemic into the plot, in that there is a warning to the detective to stock up on masks, etc., by her friend who is a doctor, and by the end the main characters are settled into lockdown. What she will write next is sure be interesting. How do you solve a case from home? I guess that is what police and others are doing as we speak, or are they? They are first responders and are taking risks with our russian roulette health situation. With the last couple of new books I've read, the pandemic hasn't appeared and I did ponder how relevant they were to NOW. I suppose the best thing is to read history, then there is less sense of unreality to the plots. It is, however, delicious to escape into these recently published clueless books about a world now gone. Will it return? Not unchanged it won't. This pandemic shift is too huge, and we will be selfconscious about our actions when and if we, say, go to a baseball game or a movie theater or stand and watch a parade. It will be strange, just as now everything is strange. Dr. Strangelove, or How I Began to Normalize the Pandemic. Weird days.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We mailed in our ballots yesterday, and I listened to a dharma talk about courage in these times, and this morning woke up to a lovely, supportive message from a dear friend from grad school, who is many states away, and I feel I can do this thing: this no pod, frustrating and crazy making situation I'll soon be in. It also helped yesterday that I got two texts from friends who want to distance walk this week, both of whom I can pour my heart out to, and that, silly as it sounds, it was sunny. We are going to have a heat spell this week, which normally I would love, but given the fires and possibility of wind, well, you know. Apocolyptic scenario. I feel RAW, but I know damn well I'm not alone, just lonely, and we're all in this boat together. Let's see what we're made of - who knows - I might even learn to be courageous.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I did a lot of crying last night, after our younger son told us they were moving to Seattle at the beginning of December. I knew they were going to move to Oregon, but this is even farther, and we will not be able to see them because they will be in a pod with our daughter-in-law's two brothers, their wives and their four children. All the children will do day care together. It's a great situation for them, and we said so, but it leaves us with no pod. No babysitting, no face to face with another human being. The babysitting has given me structure and purpose, and delight while I've been grieving about my daughter. Now we cannot see any of our kids or grandkids. I know many others are in this same boat, but we are talking about another year or two, and we are getting older by the minute. Part of me feels I will never see any of them again. It's terrifying. The worst is if we somehow get sick and we have no family to help us at all. No siblings or aunts or uncles or cousins. We will die alone, a fate that horrified me when we were taking care of our daughter, and that thankfully she didn't have to experience. I'm listening to my dharma teacher, will keep my walking and talking on the phone, but now I need to find a pod, because I am the opposite of a "loner". I'm sure I'll figure this out, but right now a river of grief is moving me down river, helpless and no knowing where the water will take me. The essence of being human, but so painful.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our younger daughter, her husband and two boys drove to the cabin last night and this morning they found the canoe high and dry on the lake bed. What a relief. Because at this point in my life I wouldn't buy a new one, as my husband and I are too old and wobbly to lug it back up to the parking lot, then up the hill to the cabin, then struggle with it to store it under the cabin deck. I felt great that I'd made it their responsibility to get it put away, and great that they didn't have the guilt of having it stolen because they didn't come up last week. And this weekend that area is sunnier and with good quality air and not even colder. Though swimming time is over. They will have fun bungling around, and with very few people around no danger of covid. I have this motherly impulse to feel responsible for everything, and I mean everything, but I'm letting go. My kids are way grown, and my job is over. Spoiling grandkids is about all I have to do these days. I'm trying to relax into it, and trust that the world will revolve without me, as I rationally know it does. But FEELING it, well, what can I say? That's another story.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I talked to my two best friends today and it was so comforting. We didn't really dip into politics. We've got our mail in ballots and will send them in the next couple of days. We talked about what we're doing, and how we're feeling and this sense of letting go of so much we used to carry. Getting older lightens the load, as, sometimes without thinking, responsibilities and worries just slip off like a silken wrap. We pare down to what matters: love and compassion, and those little moments that make up our joy or insight or sadness. Be here now, as they said in the sixties, but it gets easier. I don't want to shop and accumulate, even without the covid, I want to see and walk in nature, smile at faces, pet a dog or cat, talk to a bird. There are two crows who live in the parkway across from my house, and when I come down the stairs to the garage or sidewalk, they barely move. I say hello and they know I'm their neighbor, and caw or look up or waddle around me. We coexist. I like that. There is the cat who comes in our yard, the gray fox that visits, the owl and birds boucing on tree branches, the frentic bouncing around of the squirrels, the dogs bemoaning being left in the house by their owners. It's POPULATED here. All sentient beings, all the time. I'm one among many.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we babysat our one year old grandson, and we had fun. My husband picked persimmons from our tree, lined them up on the fence, and then the three of us carried them into the house. The grandson carried his carefully and didn't drop it once. He likes the deck off my studio to be swept clean, and had my husband and I taking turns sweeping up. He would point if we missed a leaf or acorn. Late in the day our other apple tree, which hasn't produced any apples in a decade, had one big green apple hanging, and my husband picked it before the squirrels could steal it, and for the hour we strolled our grandson he held it carefully in his hands like a golden treasure. The wonders of fruit are a miracle, but I doubt I'd notice much if wasn't for my grandchildren. The earth itself has splendors no human construction can match. I'm grateful I have little ones to remind me of those blessings.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I took two walks. There is so much electricity in the air from anxiety, the headlines and the toll isolation takes on us that physical exercise is the balance that keeps me sane. If I am. I know I'm saner than Trump. I received such a lovely missive today from my Zen teacher's daughter, and it provided great support for my own grieving. She enclosed the obituary, which was full and lovely and captured her spirit. I take comfort in the Weather Reports the teacher made us email weekly about our practice - many years of them - so much of my life the last few years has been described in them, and I can hold and read them when I miss her or need guidance. She gave me my foundation, and my current Tibetan teacher gently moves me along my path. I don't actually think I had a real mentor until my Zen teacher. I moved around too much, even as a child, and I was raised to be "independent" which meant I never bared my soul to anyone. Now I try to keep my heart open and responsive in every moment, to make up for all those years of not trusting others. Now I trust myself, and that is the key to connecting with others.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

In the middle of the night last night I woke up wide awake and worrying about our canoe at our cabin. We left it down by the lake for our younger daughter and her family, but they decided not to go up this weekend. We realized last weekend up there that we were too old and decrepit to carry it all the way from the lowered level of the lake to the parking lot, where we had planned to slide it in the back of our car and drive it up hill, then take it out and lug it up and put in the underside of the deck. Our daughter insisted they wanted to use it, but I had a premonition. Now, either the canoe will be stolen (easy enough to put in the back of a pickup) or tagged by rangers or lost somehow. We can't do it ourselves, and there is no one up there to call and help. I worried over various scenarios, but couldn't find a solution. I had lots of REGRET. We should have done it while we were there, but now going up again risks our backs, hips and knees or a bad fall. I called and left a message for our daughter, but she is trapped as well by having a baby and 3 year old, and her husband works intensely from home and doesn't get days off. Finally, I said my prayers and fell asleep, and this morning realized the canoe is a proxy for all the ways in which I feel helpless right now. I'm too old, too isolated, too afraid of politics, covid and fires. I'm back to telling myself if the canoe disappears, it's not a tragedy. We've had it for 30 plus years and have many happy memories. Last weekend we took it out for a two hour canoe ride and it was exhilarating. In other words, this morning I was sane again.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We are driving up to celebrate our grandson's fifth birthday. The air is okay up there and supposed to clear further. Ours is unhealthy for sensitive groups but clearing hopefully this afternoon. There will be cupcakes involved and we're bringing up a game from the cabin that he likes to play. His presents from us are hidden away in their garage already. No other cousins, friends or schoolmates will be there. Such is covid normal. He will get zoom calls but these little guys are fed up with all that. Actually, some of us big guys as well. Trump's covid sends a chill to the rest of us: he was tested and monitored constantly, but still he got it. I hope the lack of a mask is the reason, but I can't help being a bit more paranoid than I was. I have a target painted on my back because of age and I know I'm in the most vulnerable group of all. I pray someone gets a handle on how to proceed with protocols and we can protect our citizens, but it may very well be past the tipping point, as is climate change. We had a chance and we blew it. We did not rise to our better natures. And reading Isabel Wilkerson's book "Caste", I see we seldom did. Our country was the inspiration for Nazi racist laws, and we need to disavow our ugly history and mend our country. The time is now. The time for everything to change is now. In the midst of turmoil and chaos. Now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The air was bad today, but we managed to have a good time. We got some groceries at our local market, and I went to a pharmacy and filled a prescription from several weeks ago. Then I wrote all the birthday cards and Halloween cards I'd just bought, and they are all set to go in the mail, along with my 100 postcards to voters. our younger son brought our grandson over in the afternoon and we Facetimed with our younger daughter and her two boys, then I made us early dinner, and our grandson was so distracted the whole time he barely noticed we hadn't let him outside in the back yard. Now I'm hoping for better air tomorrow, no wind and a cooling off of temperatures they've predicted. Life is good, especially if you have made gluten free brownies with walnuts for dessert.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished writing my 100 postcards to encourage women to vote. I hope it helps. At least I'm doing something and not just complaining. Our sky is again weird today, and the air quality not great, but much worse other places. We're all holding our breath here that these next couple of days with red flag warnings don't trigger new fires or exaserbate the the existing ones. I avoided the debate, and from what I hear I'm lucky. I'm reading Isabel Wilkerson's "Caste", a phenomenally well written book about race in America, that brings our history into clear focus in a powerful and refreshing way. She speaks truth, the way James Baldwin so eloquently did. I hope we can work on these issues and have a form of truth and reconciliation in our country. We need to acknowledge our past and energize ourselves to repair and heal. And attack the inequities and restructure our society. We can do it if we are brave and have the will to change. Every country has ugly history, we just need to "gut up" as Brad Pitt's character says in World War Z and fix this. Let's fix this. We can.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our son, daughter-in-law and grandson are still in their house. The fire is still close, but we're praying the firefighters get a handle on it. Our good air has become moderate and will get worse as the fires go on, but hopefully not too bad for them or us. There is something weird about the pretty vineyards and hills that resemble Italy and France going up in smoke. It was a kind of dream to have your own vineyard and pond and many people became gentleman farmers. I'm not talking about the big wineries. They are agribusiness. But the fantasy of the good life, and anyone could drive up for a weekend and sip from a glass and walk in sculpture gardens and get away from the real world. The real world of migrant workers, of tech baby millionaires, of poverty and inequity. Real people like my son and his wife are teachers who can't afford a bigger house, or getaways at spa resorts nearby. And while these fires are raging, our president is raging and fueling the flames of hate and denial and misdirection. Let's not be misdirected ourselves. Let's turn and look directly at the craziness and insist it stop. Unlike the fires we can cease this travesty of governing in a few weeks. I pray we do.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our older son, his wife and son may have to evacuate from fire kicked up yesterday. Their air is bad, and for them, it's deja vu, as fire came within a mile of them a couple of years ago, and now it's about three miles away. The stress is horrible, and though they will come and stay at our younger daughter's rental studio, if they have to, the terror of leaving all your valuables, packing up the cat, and worrying that all your effort in painting, gardening etc can be gone in a moment. My husband and I went to the cabin overnight this weekend, and avoided the scorching temperatures here, but today it was well over ninety, and with gusty winds at times, the thing we fear. I can't get a break from worrying, and I'm not alone. There is a pile up effect of covid, the news, the fires, and the struggles of my friends and family. Nothing to do but pray, which I am.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's challenging to stay positive when in one day Trump reiterates his refusal to step down if he is defeated in the election and Breonna Taylor was murdered but not by anyone. Trump is insane and it is strange indeed that the bullet that hit the wall is evidence of wrongdoing, but all the other bullets are ignored, including the ones that killed an innocent woman. It's about as weird as women going to prison for life for defending themselves against their husbands who were battering them or the husbands who ask and are granted custody of children whose mother has had her arm or leg broken or been hospitalized by this same man. Battering a child's mother is not my idea of a suitable scene for a child to witness and to have that father granted the power to terrify his kids with impunity is the reverse of the term "child protection". It's a crazy world, where logic, reason, science and compassion are ridiculed in favor of maintaining power and fear over others. My mystery I'm reading is not as convoluted as the world I'm living in.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm pretty touched by the lace collars worn by NBA basketball players in honor of Ruth Bader Ginsberg. I sense an acknowledgement of their mothers and grandmothers as well. When these big tough guys can be that sensitive, it bodes well for their relationships with women in their lives, and sets an example of what true masculinity can be. And the humor in it is so welcome right now, with everyone screaming at each other and a dogfight being made out of RBG's vacant seat. Let's all get in touch with our feminine side, the one that's tough and persistent and compassionate and won't back down. Let's all stand up and be counted, and be proud of being nasty women.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Notorious RBG is gone, and many are devastated. She was an inspiration to a lot of women and girls, and though we are not surprised, it is a blow among so many others right now. I think first of my twelve year old granddaughter and fifteen year old foster granddaughter. She was bound to be more historical myth for them than present fact. But her absence on the Supreme Court leaves their fates in the hands of mainly white males. Why can we not gain any kind of appropriate representation? We're not fighting hard enough. The Women's Marches, the activism, Moms Rising, all the passionate defenders of the ERA, the Feminist Majority, why are we not persuasive? We have followed hook line and sinker our own devaluation. And we have legitimate fears. We fear men because they, especially loved ones, are the most likely to kill us, to take away money for food, hold children hostage, and denigrate us over and over. Liberation has to go hand in hand with protection against domestic violence. I've fought most of my life for victims, but we need to have REAL early childhood education and alerts, so that women hear that abuse is not acceptable and that there are alternatives. Look at the verbal abuse being heaped upon Kamala Harris, just as it was with Hilary Clinton. Speak up, speak out, and demonstrate that women are worth valuing and protecting. RBG did. Now let's take up the mantle.