Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My granddaughter did a FaceTime interview with me today.  She was doing it for a class and she asked 3 questions:  What was the craziest experience I'd had in my life, What was the scariest experience I'd ever had, and to tell a story about one of her aunts or uncles.  I was madly censoring, knowing I was not going to answer these queries with something inappropriate for a twelve year old.  The first was hard, but I settled on describing how her mother and I were taking a train from Mysore to Bangalore in India, and how the train stopped, everyone got out, we tried to find out what was going on and eventually found someone who told us a train ahead had derailed and it would be eleven hours or two days before we got moving again.  We followed strangers down a dusty road, and came to a bus stop.  Every time we tried to get on a bus a crowd pushed us aside.  After three buses had denied us, a family took pity on us and harangued people to let us on.  We got on.  My daughter was at the window, I in the middle and an elderly Muslim man on the isle.  He kept trying to touch my breasts so I elbowed him really hard until he stopped.  The little girl behind us began vomiting, and opened her window and it flew towards our window and my daughter shut it, but the vomit smeared the window so we couldn't see out.  We made it to Bangalore, rushed out of the station and took a taxi and made our flight to Mumbai because it was an hour late. 
Another time I'll tell you the other two answers.  I'm tired!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a beautiful conversation yesterday with one of my older daughter's childhood friends, talking about the pain of losing her and also not being with her, as this friend lives in a different state.  Then today my daughter called and described how she is feeling and that maybe the end will be soon, and we discussed how that might look and agreed that when my husband and I come we can take it one day at a time.  She is going to talk to her nurses and see if there are any options left, but if this newest pain medication switch is not more helpful, she is ready to let go.  My job is to support and witness her journey, and not place any obstacles of my own ego in her way.  I may not be ready to let her go, but this is not about me.  Her courage and tenderness is inspiring, and I hope I will be what she needs.  I know I'm going to try my best.  Listening to my Buddhist teacher's livestream this morning gives me focus and attention on the opening of the heart.  I will strive to keep my heart open and defenseless during this time of letting go.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I watched "The Contender" last night, and tears rolled down my cheeks.  Right now a woman as Vice President or President seems further away than it did at the time the movie came out.  And even that film was not daring.  The character's nomination for VP happened because the current VP died and the President could nominate a replacement until the end of his term in office, with only a committee needing to approve.  The script didn't dare allow her on a ticket.  Walter Mondale and John MacCain tried, and look where that got them.  With all the misogyny floating around right now, I fear Biden may be doomed as well.  It's bad enough some men hate women but women hating themselves and not fighting for their daughters and granddaughters?  I just don't get it.  It was nice to see the fairy tale of a movie, but not encouraging enough.  I'm hoping enough people will vote to champion equality of the sexes, and I'll do what I can.  But we're still bruised from Hilary's loss.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's sunny today and I'm determined to be in a better mood.  After all, being in a sad mood yesterday did nothing to improve my life or those I'm worried about or even the Nation.  It's amazing how inconsequential my thoughts and feelings are in the larger scheme of things.  I believe I've noticed it before.  Something bigger is afoot.  The universe, the changing of all our cells, our earth, the universe.  I'm a part of it, but just a speck.  Being a speck leaves me with responsibilities but not real power.  I wish our president had perspective, but to him he is the world, and everything else a speck.  Not a healthy or wholesome point of view.  So I prefer to see myself as the speck, essential for a brief shining moment perhaps, but if not, A LEAST I"M A PART OF SOMETHING GLORIOUS AND MYSTERIOUS AND WONDERFUL.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling sorrowful today.  Thinking about all the suffering going on around the world and the unknown future, I feel useless.  I like to tackle things, but I'm too old, not skilled in medicine or research, and having empathy seems paltry.  I pray, I try to keep focused on my blessings and they are many, but today I was just down.  I see this discouragement in people on the street when I walk, with even my grandkids.  We are resilient, but there is no blueprint for how to cope with this isolation and uncertainty.  My husband researched today about the 1918 pandemic, and what he told me scared me more than I already was:  there were three waves of the flu, and the second was more devastating than the first.  First wave in spring, second in fall, third in winter.  I hope a hundred years later we have more tools in our toolbox to fight this menace, but our lack of leadership has killed many and we have no handle on how to fight this virus.  So we need to pray for science to guide us to treat those infected more skillfully and be preventative, which so far has not been well organized.  I wonder when or if we will listen to them and be guided.  I hope so.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I wasa crazy busy today helping my daughter out with her two boys, then rushing home to take care of my son's one year old.  Luckily, both experiences went smoothly, and I take such delight in the children.  It also keeps my mind off worrying about my older daughter, who is now trying to switch medications, which is risky and painful.  My prayers may be helpful, but imagining scenarios is not.  Don't know is also the way I handle the coronavirus news, because there is no consensus and the theories are confusing.  We don't have enough information, which is why we should be cautious.  But the will power to be cautious is eroding, and governors and officials won't be able to persuade people as well as they did in the beginning.  I pray for sanity and reason, but a lot of impulse and fear is driving people.  I understand, but we only thought we had any control over our lives.  We really never did.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my daughter's official book launch.  But, of course, no readings, no tours, and readers have to make a determined effort to buy it.  Luckily, she's had a lot of radio interviews and podcasts already, and quite a bit of press.  Hopefully new reviews will keep coming, and she can bask in those.  I genuinely think it's a terrific read, plus the bonus of seeing a different perspective, and insight into what children of immigrants struggle with as they grow and mature.  I'm proud of her talent and determination, and she's now out in the world forever.  A book is hard.  I had one published many years ago, and I wasn't prepared for the struggle, the moxie it took to promote it, and, in my case, the fact that it sold few copies.  My agent had thought it would be a TV mini series, but she was wrong.  I'm still grateful for the experience, but though I've written half a dozen drafts of novels and a memoir, I haven't been thick skinned enough to put them out in the world.  Thank goodness my daughter is tougher, has an amazing editor and publisher, and is in tune with the current zeitgeist.  This is a really special day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's much more difficult these days to pull myself into the book I'm reading.  I don't want to read.  Not about Covid 19, any news, but not any fiction either.  It's a fugue state, thinking about my daughter struggling to find meds that ease her pain, about my grandchildren, suffering from the isolation and the tension they feel through their pores, thinking about how my husband and I and our friends are considered expendable by some people in our culture - useless because of our age, and devalued.  Yes I am old, but I want people to care about the value of my life.  My solace is seeing the grandkids now.  I know I am helping them and their parents.  I feel useful.  I have no more idea of what the future holds than the next person, but right now I am alive to help and feel and pray.  That and writing 100 postcards for the election, to beg people to vote.  Not vote a certain way, but just vote.  Take the responsibility our current President will not, and make ours a more compassionate nation, based on the value of all of us, young or old, rich or poor, black or brown or white.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've had a nice Mother's Day, at my own home, of course.  My younger son, his wife and one year old came over as well as my younger daughter, her husband and two boys.  They brought pasta salad and green salad and I made fried chicken and jello salad.  The kids played, we monitored and it was very relaxing.  Now I'm going to make up my grocery list and then read my book, Paulette Jiles' Simon the Fiddler.  The sun came out this afternoon, but it's chillier, and supposed to rain tomorrow.  I hope it does.  Anything to ward off drought.  I think of my own mother, gone over thirty years, and how  complex she was, caught in the mores of the fifties, without an education (only to 3rd grade) and yet how vibrant, fun, generous and loving she was.  She had a passel of friends and she adored and kept up with all her siblings (11) and was a great grandmother to my kids.  She died at 61, and it was sudden and surprising.  Yet I had made my peace with her, after the usual stages of rebellion, anger and judgement, and I wish she'd had more time.  I see her in myself in many ways, and her social skills and artistic abilities I envy.  She left a hole in the world. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Tulips arrived for me this morning sent by my younger daughter.  Yellow, pink and red.  So cheerful they immediately lifted my mood.  Before the coronavirus I bought flowers almost every week at Trader Joe's or elsewhere, as my yard has azaleas and camellias and flowers that die inside in a vase.  We do have some struggling roses in the front yard, but I hate to cut them as they are the only real flowers there, except for the rhododendrons fall and spring.  Flowers brighten our lives, and right now the trees and plants and flowering vines and bushes are a balm to our souls.  There are two peony bushes up the street that I always stop and admire.  One is white tinged with pink and the other a deep, rich magenta.  I pay my respects, sigh and move on.  Healing is helped by these friends, gracious with their beauty, reminding us of the wonderful world in which we live.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we spent the morning looking for rolly polly bugs, worms, centipedes and slugs.  Our three year old grandson is bug crazy and we have pictures of him with his little arms covered with slugs.  He even found a beetle.  This involved a great deal of tipping plants in pots to see what lived underneath.  His finding ability is enhanced by the fact that he can see close up and personal, being a very small person.  His joy in his discoveries was contagious.  We felt thrilled ourselves.  He moved a few slugs to new homes, which means new plants in are garden will be under siege, but who cares?  In a stay in place world, adventures are to be found if you just look closely enough!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished a book, "Late Migrations" by Margaret Rendl, and really enjoyed it.  It's a memoir, which also includes stories from her older relatives.  It's hybrid structure appeals to me these days.  Her connection to the woods and her southern background echo my love of the woods, forged by where I've lived most of my life, and I spent two years in Alabama and six in Virginia as a child.  So much of the terrain is comforting to me, and yet I felt not southern, but alien.  My father was there to integrate the garment plants, and we were considered troublemakers.  We also were disturbed by the fact that all the work seemed to be done by black people who lived in separate towns.  My mother was the only woman she knew who did her own laundry, cooking and childcare.  I sensed how wrong the balance of power was, and the fact that we were part Indian meant I didn't identify with whiteness as this gift from god.  My parents told me one thing, but the people around us had a different assumption about how important they were.  Yet from the southern years came my best childhood friend, and she is a great support and comfort to me now.  Like the author of the book, she loves and observes birds in her woodsy yard on the outskirts of a tiny town.  As kids, our days were spent walking in the woods, riding our bikes ten miles to the river to swim, and dreaming of boys and movie stars and the next dance.  We've become more substantial since then.  At least I hope we have.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went over to my younger daughter's house to help with the kids.  The 3 year old told me to take care of the baby.  He wanted his mom all to himself.  I told my daughter now I know why "Lady and the Tramp" was my favorite movie as a kid.  Lady was perfectly happy with her owners/parents when a baby arrived on the scene and spoiled everything.  My brother was born when I was 2 3/4 years old, and I couldn't see what all the fuss was about.  He was a noisy blob, and not a doll. Nobody would let me play with him.  He was no fun, and everyone focused on him, not me.  When we showed this 3 year old the beginning of the movie, he was indignant that the parents neglected Lady.  This is right up his alley.  Luckily, I'm happy to hold baby while his mother pushes his swing, reads to him or plays with him.  I, however, was forbidden to read to him.  Little does he know I understand completely!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My older daughter is suffering more pain, and I feel so helpless.  I want to go to her, but she wants her life normal as long as possible.  But nothing is normal.  I feel as if something is breaking my body in two, and she must be on a journey I cannot even imagine.  She is so brave and transparent and loving - giving as much as she can to her daughter, her friends and family.  I hope and pray we are giving something comforting to her.  I know she is grateful for her life, with all her writing, teaching, travel, relationships and most of all motherhood.  I believe it's as she says, she feels blessed.  But it's also so arbitrary and unfair and cruel to not let her witness her daughter mature, to not see the effects of her novel on her readers, to not be freer to see people because of Covid 19.  She deserves none of this, and I don't know how I will be able to bear the loss of her vibrant, beautiful being.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today we had our daughter and her two sons over all day, so she gets some help with them.  The 3 year old was major busy:  he baked chocolate chip cookies, he picked flowers, he painted with glitter paints, he drove his trucks outside, we went for a walk, he found rollypolly bugs and centipedes and spiders and inch worms, he had lunch which he ate because he wanted a cookie, and throughout it all he talked non stop.  His energy is amazing, and he is a winning character for sure.  His baby brother is quite the talker as well.  So when they leave the noise level pulmets, and we are stunned for a while.  I'm amazed I have the energy, but somehow I do, and I'm present and in the moment the entire time.  No worries about the virus or the state of the world, just keeping the boys safe and paying attention every minute.  I feel useful today and it's a great feeling.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today my Buddhist teacher also had a guest speaker and both addressed fear.  There is no more important topic right now, as we all battle waves of fear over the virus and the unknowns about it.  They both suggested meditation, as it brings us back to the present moment, instead of being lost in thinking about the past or future.  But the second aspect surprised me a bit:  have a good heart.  For Buddhists, I feel it means leading in all actions and thoughts with compassion and love.  When a question was asked about talking to children, they stated that speaking from a place of fearlessness reassures children, so be careful about conveying fear that is in your body or mind at that moment.  Wait until your own mind is calm and then your energy system will soothe them.  It's okay to not know the answers to everything going on right now, but keep children away from fear mongers, like the media and people who want to express their fear in their presence.  I also protect myself by not looking at any media about the coronavirus.  I read any facts about safety, and the rules in our state, but otherwise I protect my heart from unnecessary fear.  Don't know is not a bad place to be.  It's better than mulling over scenarios that may never happen.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Here is my current formula for joy:  I put on the CD of the soundtrack from "Babe" and sing along with the song the farmer sings to Babe about making a day golden and true.  My heart soars, I begin dancing, just as the farmer does in the movie, and I sing loud enough to shake the house.  Yesterday I was grumpy all day, so I began today with the CD, and played it through at least three times, once while babysitting my one year old grandson and dancing him on my knees.  I guarantee you it will lift your spirits and remind you what art and music and film can do:  put us in touch with our deepest, richest feelings like joy or sorrow or wonderment or love.  Today my gratitude goes to my working stereo system that has brought me so much music and the comfort it provides.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Every day I make a little video for my grandkids and today I decided the story would be about anteaters.  Since two years ago, when my husband and I, our older son, his wife and our grandson visited San Diego and saw them in the zoo there, I've been fascinated by them, especially the giant anteaters, who can be 8' from the tip of their tails to the tip of their very, very long noses.  Their fur is long and sweeping, like the mane of a horse.  Anyway, I fell in love with the two I saw in the zoo.  They live in Central and South America, but have been driven almost to extinction in Central America.  Their habitat is being eradicated.  The forests, grasslands and other areas are being burned or developed.  They eat 35,000 ants a day.  How wondrous such animals are, and exotic.  Perhaps they are not necessary, but they prove the glory of the universe.  Some day I hope humans can protect and appreciate these gifts that do not directly benefit them, but make our world magical.