Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday and the day before I did a zoom retreat on the practice of Chod. I know, I had no idea what it was either, but I enjoyed listening to the two teachers, one of them mine. They are both Tibetan Rimpoches, but my teacher speaks excellent English and the other had a translator. At the end of the two days I surprised myself by enjoying the translated teacher more. He is very lively and so is his translator, and somehow I received the essence of him through my computer screen. If I told you the basics, you would be horrified. But somehow, thinking about the body as a corpse, and going to what they call haunted ground (metaphorically) makes sense. If our greatest fear is the deterioration and loss of our body, then facing that fear is liberating. Having witnessed my daughter's loss so recently, this teaching eased me. Our culture is so different than the Tibetan, but after a few years I have come to appreciate what it has to offer us in the west. I'm grateful I did this retreat, and feel lighter now.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

If people asked me who my favorite actor was I readily answered Daniel Day Lewis. But then he retired, so I began naming Chadwick Boseman. He was unrecognizable in each film, because he disappeared so completely into the role, as Day Lewis did. He portrayed Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall, James Brown and others so powerfully he knocked your socks off. Now he has died at 43, downed by colon cancer. I am devastated. The loss to the film pantheon is immesurable. I have been assuming he'd win his Oscar soon. At least we have his handful of films to treasure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our grandson asked to be driven back home early today. He seemed not quite himself, but part of it was his expectation dashed. He wanted to see a movie about pirates, and his parents looked it up and it seemed okay, so they brought it over to see after lunch. Of course our grandson wanted early lunch, and was so excited that we ate well before noon and then my husband took him up to see it. But something about the film disturbed him, and I came up and turned it off. Instead we watched Daniel Tiger for an hour, which soothed him, then I suggested we play little critters and after a few minutes he announced he wished to go home. The air quality was so poor today we couldn't take him out for a walk or a scooter ride, or even in the back yard. I think the little fellow was disappointed that, as he said, "I'll see it when I'm older", meaning it scared him. And then he'd been cooped up inside and our options were limited. Expectations are the ruin of many an adult, much less a three year old. It was a good lesson for me. The suffering was caused by the high anticipation followed by a crash. Been there, done that.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I've been doing an ancient exercise video in recent days, as the air quality has not always been safe. I'm pretty sure I did this one in my forties, and my mind as I'm following the moves wonders what all these cuties look like today. Probably not as ridiculous as I look, though thankfully no one is observing me: like the hypopatamuses in Fantasia. My loose skin jiggles and I try to keep my feet securely on the ground. But I'm doing it, and that surprises me pleasantly. What else have I given up that was premature? Running? No. I never did run. Stairsteps over and over? Probably not a good idea. I'm as the teacher in the video says, lookin' good. Next step? Maybe try those old Bollywood dance videos again. It can't be much worse than last time I tried. I just know better than to do the floor exercises. I might be stranded there for hours!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I watched the ceremony for my Zen teacher's cremation. On Zoom. It was not the same as being there. Not in any way. The camera was not good, the sound was sometimes un-understandable, and there was a lot of restlessness among the six or so people present. Surreal is how I would describe it. Yet, I think my teacher would have been amused, or maybe was, who knows? She could be a stickler for ritual, but also goofy and irreverent. They filled her box with flowers from her garden and her daughter's, and I know she loved that. I sent a picture of her and her husband last year, before he died, and also blessings I wrote. I asked her to take care of my daughter who died as well. Afterward, I was very hungry and ate a big lunch. My husband came out to the studio a while ago and asked if I was sad, which was nice of him. I said no and meant it. She's in nirvana now, or close to it, and with her beloved husband and has avoided years of Alzeimer's and needing a caretaker. She lived until a couple of weeks of her 85th birthday. She had an extraordinary life, inspired many people, and was loved by many. I have a million memories to cherish, and her voice in my head when I'm unsure of how to speak or act. She hasn't left me. Not at all.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a good talk with my therapist, who validates my feelings in a way that really helps me. I can't do this grieving on my own. As my friend says, I'm tribal. I am interconnected with many and this isolation thing is not easy, plus grieving for me means sharing with others. This morning I babysit for my six month old grandson while my daughter took the three year old to the dentist. Babysitting makes me feel useful and needed. Otherwise I contemplate my own mortality or something equally dire. Loss is hard to adjust to and sometimes my life just feels like a big gooey ball of loss: my parents, my brother, friends, my daughter, the absences are glaring. At my kids' weddings, the only blood relative was either my husband's sister (the first), none at the second, and my cousin at the last two. I can't produce family, which seems sad. My nuclear family has been gone completely for four years, but consisted only of my brother for the thirty years before that. How's that for whining? Maybe the therapist didn't help as much as I thought!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I will be able to zoom my Zen teacher's cremation ceremony in a couple of days. The question is, do I feel up to it? I am going to talk with my therapist by phone tomorrow, and I keep overestimating my capacity to "handle" things. Last week, zooming in on a remembrance ceremony for my daughter by her college, I felt deeply depressed after. Having her name read did not do anything for me except point out that when they got to her graduation year, she was the only one who had died, and they skipped whole years before and after. I want to be strong, but am I? I often read my grandson a story in Frog and Toad Together where they wonder if they are brave, and end up being brave together with toad in bed with the covers over his head and frog in the closet with the door shut. That's about how much confidence I have in my strength right now. I ate two brownies with sugar in them last night, and I am diabetic. I am a wreck. We will just see if I am able and willing to mourn my teacher at this moment. It could go either way.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This weekend I'm attempting to write thank you notes to people who have written me about my daughter's death. This is painful for me, because my instinct is to turn away and distract myself. And I know what I write will not be profound or even adequate. But I want them to know I deeply appreciate their efforts, and I hold them in my heart. But words - words fail to express what I feel and I am hollowed out by grief. My hope is a memorial service sometime in the future, where we can all be together, weep, talk about what she meant to us, and enfold each other in love. This is just a step in that direction. A belief that we will all hug and hold hands and sing and cry.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One of the many things I loved about my Zen teacher who died almost three days ago was how she embodied human contradictions. She was blunt and could hurt others' feelings, she had quite a temper on display, and she could be scary. She was a tiger, fierce and determined, and often the student felt like a baby antelope. She had a complex history, and she was a child of the sixties, for sure. A wild child, but with a side that allowed her to nurse Suzuki Roshi gently as he died of cancer. She herself battled cancer several times, only to be felled by it at last. People were passionate about her pro and con. She stirred things up. The more she disturbed me the more the box I had locked myself in cracked open and I had insights about my body, my history, and my patterns. I'm writing this in the studio I lent to her for many years so she could do her interviews when she was in our area. In between interviews, she critized my "infestation" of squirrels, offered trapping advice, lectured me on my plants and how to trim them, and laughed her gap toothed grin with me about silly things. She was interested in EVERYTHING. She knew who slept with who, had studied under all the great Buddhists, and traveled everywhere. Her devotion to her husband (her second) and her fondness for her first husband were great examples of being in the moment, not the past. She used her own road rage as an example of reacting not responding. She did not have grandchildren but gave me two puppets and three lions for mine. I, in turn, gave her many statues of quails, her favorite bird. She loved her dogs, the badly behaved ones, the one who bit men, the ones who pooped and peed all over the floor. She was a sucker for a rescue dog. When her husband died, I believe she was ready to ease out herself. Alzheimers was imprisoning her. She happily lived with her daughter, but she was meant to rule her own kingdom, not be a guest. I'm sure she now surrounds those she loves and gets that goofy grin when we mess up. We could all use a little lightening up right now, and she's just the being to make us see it. The cosmic zaniness and the utter joy of our lives here on earth.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had our three year old grandson all day and the smoke was such that we couldn't take him out, even in our back yard. He did well, but he didn't get enough exercise and neither did we. We are dreading what these over 500 fires will bring. Everyone we know is impacted. Will UCSanta Cruz, where our older son graduated, burn to the ground? Will our cabin burn, will our house burn? Where to run, when we are not supposed to be in contact with other people? There is another dry lightning storm forming for Sunday night. We don't know what this weekend will bring. We are exhausted from praying, and there are so many prayers that need to be given. We need some hope and some relief, but it looks unlikely. We will have to take what comes and continuing standing and fighting for our lives. Because life is precious, and all too brief.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The convention speeches last night were inspiring: Gabby Giffords, Barack Obama, Elizabeth Warren, Hilary Clinton, and Kamala Harris were on point and convincing about the need to turn this country around and remember our ideals. But hearing the voices of the people torn apart by our current immigration policies was perhaps most important. Two families whose mothers were deported illustrated the craziness of what the current administration is doing. This must stop. I just hope everyone votes, and doesn't leave our future to chance. I know we're in crisis, especially here where the fires are raging and the air destructive, but we need to keep our heads and stand up for ourselves and our people. No matter how difficult it seems.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The bad air quality today due to fires kept my daughter, two grandsons and I inside all day, and the three year old unraveled by the afternoon. We tried to wear him out dancing to "Captain Feathersword" with us playing the kazoo and shaking rattles, but it didn't quite do the trick. The smell is awful, and we joked about being even more stuck inside than because of the pandemic. We at least could take a walk with masks. Now we fear the worst every time there is a fire truck siren. I'm frazzled, and too worn out to make much for dinner. It's a salad again tonight. That is all I can muster up. My four year old grandson began his school year remotely, and it's so sad. All he wants to do is play with other kids. Now his only friend is a teacher online. My granddaughter will begin her second junior high year online as well, with none of the social buzz she so badly needs. I'm praying something hopeful happens soon. Rain perhaps.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Wasn't Michelle Obama's speech last night terrific?! It was so reassuring to listen to sanity speaking. I'm hoping this nation's fever pitch of poor judgement and impulse control wains. Yes, we're all scared, yes, the future is unknown, yes, the floor has fallen out beneath us, but wait a minute: there never was security or guarantees or avoidance of risk and death. Did we get so distracted we forgot that fact? I guess so. With my brother's untimely death, my daughter's cancer and death, my Zen teacher's eminent demise, I have not been blinded to "don't know". It's been in my face, even though I initially feel surprised, I am not. Let's face the truth, and tell it like it is, but more importantly, ACT like our actions matter and can help protect the future. It's hard, but it's what grownups do.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm so proud of my family. My kids all have little kids, and the pandemic has forced them to work from home and struggle with no breaks from toddlers and babies. Their children have no playmates. The pressure is on them to keep their families safe and sane. My grandchildren are depressed but resilient, and even our granddaughter is resurfacing after the loss of her mother. But her dad and our other kids and their spouses are showing their courage and determination to protect their kids and surround them with a nourishing, creative, empowering environment. All across this nation our not just the heroes who are our "essential" workers, but ordinary people who are essential to their families, and struggle to keep their families intact and thriving. My husband and I depend on our younger son to order our groceries, our younger daughter for companionship and help and our older son for advice, and yesterday, for a big box of fresh produce: corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, kale, lettuce, radishes, carrots, apples and melon. That gift took thought and care, and I'm so grateful for my kids. My despair would be huge if not for them. I want you to know I believe we are all essential, not expendable, and we should ACT LIKE IT!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We drove up to visit our oldest grandson and son and daughter-in-law and had a delightful time despite the intense heat and humidity. We had thunder and lightning from before dawn, sprinkled with rain, and sure enough, it rained lightly the entire way up. I cannot remember ever having rain in August. It was around 100 degrees up there, but even with masks, we managed to sit in the back, have lunch, and take a walk. We had brought up a bunch of our granddaughter's old toys: a Little Critters dollhouse and critters and furniture, a wooden stable with some horses, a Chewbacca sleeping bag, and a little desk and chair that my parents had at their house, and our granddaughter had used for ten years. We also brought up a magic kit, and our grandson loved it all. He went from thing to thing, narrating and engaging us with his play. They are keeping him away from his preschool, so I hope we entertained him a bit. We hadn't seen them since February, because we were sick, then away for a month at our older daughter's house, then recently at the cabin 3 weeks. So we're adjusting to the new reality, which includes climate change, isolation, masks and washing hands pretty much non-stop. But we can do this. I know it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We're having a heat spell, and the situation quickly ignites fears about fire. This is our terror time of year, even without Covid 19. The anxiety arises that people will seek the beaches and pools and coolness and in the process compromise their safety. Today one of the newspapers has a photo of kids in a pool - privledged, white kids, as if the economic and class divide wasn't already apparent enough. Poor neighborhoods have higher temperatures, due to crowding, asphalt, lack of trees and green belts. People can die in this heat, but mainly those who are already disadvantaged in so many ways. I'm praying we get through this next week without fires, but I jump every time I hear a fire truck's siren.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The last couple of days two things have scared me, one is my own fault and the other is upsetting information. I ordered and began reading "THe End of October" by Lawrence Wright, which is a thriller That came out right before we were aware of Covid, but its plot is eerily echoing the Covid 19 path, in a series of incredible coincidences. It's as if the author predicted the exact course of this pandemic. I'm learning a lot about pandemics and agencies that address them, but it is disturbing me deeply. It's too well written for me to stop now, a few chapters from the end. The second is a friend's daughter's and granddaughter's coming down with the coronavirus, and her quaranteening herself and being worried sick. The one year old was in a nanny share with only one other child, and they have no idea how the daughter or granddaughter could have gotten it, as they were super careful. My friend is a retired pediatrician, so she has been scruptulous as well. These are the first two people I know really well who have gotten the virus, and though the baby is on the mend and the daughter holding her own, it is terrifying for my friend, and has forced me to see how insidious this virus is. I feel nervous for myself and those I love, but more so if careful social distancing and no contact is not enough to protect us. I worry anew now about my kids and grandkids. And it seems to be getting worse, not better.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, yes I'm pleased Kamala Harris is the VP pick. My heart is with Elizabeth Warren, whose policies align more with my ideas, but a black woman and a south asian woman all in one?! It's about time. She's a fighter and I know she'll do us proud. I got tears in my eyes, hoping my daughter somehow knows that a south asian woman is on the ticket. I like that Biden and she have been friends for years. I like that she's a Californian, I like her drive and tenacity. I know she will go through the fire with lies thrown at her right left and center (of the Republican party). I hope they weather the storm that's coming. I know my 12 year old granddaughter has a woman with her heritage running for office so she knows she can too. And what a shout out to black women who have fought so hard for the Democratic party and for their own representation. It's cause for celebration.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Why is it that no one wants to talk about a really big issue - bathrooms. With Covid 19, those of us who are shall we say more advanced in years and wisdom must struggle with walks of no more than an hour, or visits away from home of short duration because we NEED TO PEE. If you drive to a park, the facilities are locked. If you go anywhere, is there a restroom anywhere available, and if so is it ever cleaned? So many outings are nixed because I would have to squat in public or wet my pants. Last week that happened. I was walking with my daughter and two grandsons and I realized I really, really, really needed to pee. I practically crossed my legs walking, but before we returned to my daughter's house, I'd had "an accident", kind of like my 3 year old grandson. I had to borrow pants from my daughter, and return home with my soggy bag. I would have happily used a portapotty if I'd spotted one, but no. All my friends complain about this. Restaurants being closed is not all about the food, it's the restrooms, stupid. People my age are isolated in so many ways, but aa central issue is scouting for bathrooms, or taking 20 ten minute walks a day. Quite the challenge!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I found something new to organize. My sun hats were in a basket on the way to the basement, not entirely illogical, but possibly lethal if I tripped over it on my way down the stairs, so I moved the hats to my TV cabinet turned into storage bins for various clothing items, after I did a bit of consolidating. I had two plastic bins for travel stuff (bags, blankets, sleep masks, luggage tags etc.) I have no idea when I'll travel again and anyway, I never really used most of this stuff when I did take trips, which seems now long ago and far away. I tossed a bunch of these artifacts, and now have only one bin, so I can put my hats on top of it. I'll use the second bin for grandchildren's toys, and maybe the basket as well. The landing on the stairs to the basement is so neat and organized, it's almost impossible to trip over now. I might later look through the hats and get rid of some of them as well. Anything to avoid organizing my photos.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband drove up last night and today the stove for the cabin was actually delivered. Third time is the charm I guess. I didn't even want a new stove but the old one broke, and really, we need a stove up there. I feel relieved that we can check that off our list. Without a stove none of our kids would have come up and neither would we. Especially now, when all any of us does is eat. The highlight of every day, and the pounds to prove it. Yes, it's nice to walk, but I'm so sick of my neighborhood I could cry. Yes, it's good talking to friends so we can grumble about our solitude and try to avoid talking politics. It's not that we don't agree about the latter, but it's just too depressing. We try to recommend books to each other but without any enthusiasm, as we're all sick of reading, watching movies, cleaning and organizing and packing up stuff for Goodwill, who doesn't even want it at this point. A stove is not something to celebrate, but it's all I've got to offer.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I read the story of Mara the elephant in the New York Times. She is fifty years old and all her life she has been in servitude, either working, in a circus or in the Buenos Aires zoo. People in Argentina wanted her and the other animals in the zoo to have better lives, so they found homes for hundreds of them, some in the U.S. Mara was offered a spot in an elephant sanctuary in Brazil, but the Covid 19 hit and it the travel got very complicated. Due to many people's determination, she is now happily free and has even made a new friend, another Asian elephant. In the midst of all our whining and grumbling, there are people devoted to doing good at some risk to themselves. They take responsibility for the harm humans have done to our animal coinhabitants of our planet.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our apple and persimmon trees are spewing out tiny hard fruits that are totally unedible. Eventually, in a month or more, we will see a decent sized fruit in both trees, but only a third or less of the original fruit. I was trying to explain to my daughter and grandson that picking these tiny fruits gives room for an apple to grow to a reasonable size, but of course, I cannot reach any upper branches to do this. I especially love the persimmons, as they are perfect oval shapes and when ripened inside, are sweet and with none of that aftertaste. So every morning I pick up these green pellets and compost them, as there is enough wildlife around here to make trouble for me if food is available. Rats, racoons, opossoms, grey foxes, as well as the ubiquitous squirrels scout for tasty morsels, though from the look of it, not too zealously. This task is mine, as my husband ignores the back yard, but I have a studio out here, so the reminders are automatic. Gardening by pruning, an underrated skill.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent a long time this morning playing Little Critters with my grandson. We opened the bin and put all the furniture in the right rooms of the plastic two story critter house with balconies and a front porch. I'd bought it for my granddaughter, but she has outgrown it so I took it for the four year old grandson, but the three year old tried it out today. He loved opening and closing the windows and putting the tiny bedspreads on the beds and playing with the tiny toys. I put clothes on all the kitties, mousies, and a turtle. I set up the kitchen and dining room, which he had no interest in. After an hour, my husband took over and played another many minutes, no doubt fulfilling a long held dream of playing with a dollhouse. Then we went to the rose garden, which is so secret I seldom run into anyone who has been there, but it is in a delightful bowl off a busy street, and has a pool, a long waterfall, and every kind of rose you can imagine. There were very few people, and we easily kept away from them. The wild turkeys didn't appear, as they usually do. They must have been up in the trees as it was noontime. My grandson would pull down his tiny mask to smell certain roses, and recommend which ones we should sniff. The visit was a gentle hit of beauty and tranquillity much needed. I'm grateful for it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm seeing my dermatologist this morning, and being inside anywhere now makes me very nervous. It didn't help that my older son sent me an article detailing asymptomatic Covid 19 cases, and how pretty much we are all doomed. I'll wear a mask, but is a mask enough? Evidently not. This terror we all face is wearing us down. Everyone I've talked to in the last week has said they went out and soon realized they forgot their mask. That is how much we wish this were over. However, I am getting more used to the mask, and if I could just order a really good one in my size, I'd feel better, but all the companies only have size small. I can't get ahead of the curve and order before they run out. I never was any good at that shopping skill and it's really a handicap now. I've just spent 15 minutes trying to order books from my favorite bookstore, only to get to the point of checkout and not be able to complete the transaction. I finally called the store, but didn't have time to go through it all again with her, as I have this derm appointment. I decided to try one more time online, and this time it went through. Crazy! Challenging times indeed, even for the trival stuff!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I am enjoying a book from one of the Little Libraries in my neighborhood. A mystery, not great, but nicely distracting. I ordered four books online today, but they are going to take two weeks at least. I don't feel like being informed or dazzled by novelistic prose right now. Too challenging for me. I tend to only like reading mysteries, non-fiction, and biography and memoir. I can read poetry as well, and short stories. I have a fat book of Lydia Davis essays, but though if it contained her short stories I'd read it in a heartbeat, essays take too much brain power right now. I really yearn for books by authors I've known and loved in the past, but there are no new books by those people right now, partly because it's summer and generally only beach reads come out. I tried reading a couple of those when I was taking care of my daughter, but they are so predictable and Hallmarky. Same with romances. I get embarassed by them even as I see the formula and know the plot. I tell myself I'm better than that, though I don't know what's better about mysteries. Oh, well, I have a paperback for the next couple of days, so I can entertain myself while social distancing. Ugh.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm feeling better this morning, despite the dreary weather and the news, which I make a great effort to avoid. My older two kids' stepmom wrote me from Ireland, and her support has meant a lot to me as I know how much she loved my daughter. As she says, we probably won't be seeing each other for a long time, as we cannot travel, but I feel her love. I know my kids are suffering but don't want to worry me, and we don't talk about the elephant in the room. They must go on with their small children and be positive, and I want the same thing. Change is difficult and everything about living is change. I'll adjust.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I had a long telephone conversation with my older daughter's ex boyfriend.  He's a dear guy, and was devastated to learn that she had died.  Their breakup was mutual and friendly, and he's married and has twin girls who are now teens.  We "checked in" about our lives, and he said his wife reminded him he has letters from my daughter in India the year she was traveling around, and that they are beautiful and powerful.  He's going to offer him to my granddaughter's dad, to save for her until and if she is ready.  I loved hearing from him, and yet it was hard to bear.  I want to support those who loved my daughter, but I haven't much to give.  I struggle.  I looked at a stationery catalogue yesterday, to order cards to thank the many people who have sent notes, yet I can't even relook at them.  I'm trying to read "The Mirror and the Light" because my daughter loved the trilogy so much, and yet, though the writing is amazing, it too reminds me of her.  Today was a lovely day spent with my younger daughter and her two boys, and it's such interactions that bring me happiness.  I'm grateful for them and everyone who is talking to me, comforting me, and reminding me how much impact my daughter had in her short life.  She truly lives on.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband and I made a frustrating trip to the cabin Friday afternoon, waited around all Saturday for a stove to be delivered, and for the second time the attempt failed.  A week ago they brought up the new stove but it was all dented in, so they took away our old one and this time the delivery guy just didn't try.  He saw a barricade and didn't even call us.  So we drove back home last night, mission not accomplished.  I'd be upset any time, but yesterday I noticed I felt fractured, splintered, and realized I am too raw for these kinds of normal aggravations.  I seem fine, but can't handle ordinary life very well.  
It doesn't help that while I'm grieving for my daughter, my Zen teacher is on hospice and dying, and because of Covid 19 none of us can see her.  It is her daughter who is caring for her, and I know all too well what she is going through.  So maybe the stove is the absence, the deep and abiding absence I am now facing.  I'm not doing too well with it.