Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went for a walk with my friend today and we were talking about the grandmother delima. She has a six month old granddaughter, and I have two grandsons completely unvaccinated, so not only do we not get to see each others grandchildren, but we must avoid each other if either of is possibly exposed to covid. I haven't seen her granddaughter in months, and she hasn't been able to be around me at times because either she or I might have a possible exposure, and we're awaiting the results of tests. Since my two grandsons had RSV for a couple of weeks, and I didn't want to risk giving it to her granddaughter, We had to be careful and wee now wear masks when we walk. Only two of my grandsons are unvaccinated, and one lives two states away, but that one little guy rearranges my interactions dramatically. My friend was looking forward to her childhood friend and husband visiting when they were down here to visit their daughter and granddaughter, but the granddaughter then the daughter got covid, so my friend couldn't see them. They flew back early. It's all so complicated. But we all choose our grandchildren over friends, though that leaves us without all the support we could have. I'm hoping for a vaccine for 2-5 year olds soon. And not just for my sake but for their paarents' sakes.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Buddhist teacher talked about equanimity today. An excellent topic for me. I've been carrying so much anxiety in my body that it's affecting me, and about things over which I have no control. Last night my husband and I watched the last show of Season seven of the Brokenwood Mysteries, and it involved a Maori woman in witness protection with two small children. She was diagnosed with cancer and wanted to reveal to her family where she was and her condition so her children would have love and support when she died. She looked like my daughter, and after the episode was over, I cried. But it was comforting, because it reminded me that we promised and are fulfilling that promise to love and be involved with her daughter, and, ironically, our younger son had visited our granddaughter and son-in-law that very day. Our daughter asked all of us to commit to her daughter's support, and we all have. And that's all we can do. She has a challenging life ahead of her, and so far she's faring well. And I can see more and more that our granddaughter has so much of her mother in her that we have not entirely lost our daughter. She lives in her child. Anyway, my teacher was saying that humans, with their ego, believe they can control life, and of course that is a delusion. We need to let go of that kind of responsibility. I have a perfect record of not having saved anyone from dying because that is not a power any of us possesses. I want to peel off any vestages of judgment about myself or others, because we can possibily sometimes control our own behavior, but that's about all we can aim for. If I keep the nature of reality in my sights, my anxiety will lessen, and I can stay centered in my life without the chatter.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Some of my friends have made really brilliant suggestions about how to repair/decorate my bench. On Tuesday we're going to take it to canning shop to hopefully be repaired, and when it's back, I think I am going to decorate it with some Moroccan symbols, images that my daughter painted, and ones that represent her life. Such a great idea. Turn broken eggs into an omlette. Today I talked three hours on the phone with my childhood friend - a world record for me. We discussed racism, history in public schools, how we ended up living where we live, what the future holds, and travel. We always do little vicarious armchair traveling. She may be going to Amsterdam and her itinerary includes an every ten years tulip festival. I hope it's not canceled and she gets to go with her friend. I described going to a tulip festival in Washington State, which is a possible substitute if she cannot travel to Europe. It has been a beautiful day here, and i did take a short walk with my husband and also get groceries. My endless chatter on the phone left me cramped for time, but it was worth it. It's great to talk to someone who has been a companion throughout your life and knows you inside and out. And we always discover new things about each other. Today: we both loved latin in high school, our algrebra teacher was a disaster, we've ended up back where we lived growing up. She's my witness to my past, as my sibling, parents and close relatives are all gone. She gives me continuity.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We just took a walk and the sun is out and spring flowers are emerging, like the snowdrops under our apple tree. I wore a puffy vest and was soon too hot, though the temperature was supposed to be 64. It didn't help that I had a turkey burger for lunch. I felt like a whole turkey was in my stomach. My husband and I have already agreed that we're having salads for dinner. I've been calling to see if anyone can repair the bench our son gave us last summer. The maker said no, but now I'm seeing if the people who repair cane chairs can possibly fix it. Repairing and duplicating our backyard furniture is a drag. And it's Friday, so lots of luck. Our insurance adjuster was supposed to come out but has not shown up yet. I feel pretty unmotivated. Right now I can see our neighbor cat Toby is sitting on top of our back fence looking up at the trees, no doubt hoping a bird will fall down into his mouth. Neither that nor sitting under the bird feeder has worked for him so far. But he's a hopeful kind of guy. He thinks positively. I need some of that optimism to rub off on me. On our walk we saw a squirrel a couple of feet away in a tree who was so fat and smug he paid no attention to us. The critter world likes this springtime weather and is as cheerful as a Disney movie. Next, I expect Snow White or Sleeping Beauty to sachet down the path throwing petals to the skies and singing with the birds.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is another sunny day. Everyone is going to have to begin watering their plants, and drought again looms, but most things loom right now. I am deeply touched that Supreme Court Justice Breyer is retiring, and giving the court a chance to balance more equitably. I presume the right wing will create as much pain and suffering as possible during the process, if there even is a process. Merritt Garland never got his chance. But right now, with everything unknown, many of us like to envision a Black woman as the nominee as the President promised. Let us have our few moments of hope. Why is it so hard to have a jury of our peers? Class and priviledge play a role, as only those who can afford to take eight dollars a day for jury duty and have childcare or are not caretaking can manage this civic duty. The truth is, our judges are overwhelmingly white and male and upper class. They judge people to whom they have no affinity or understanding. I'm reading a terrific book, "Noise", by the Nobel prize winner in Economics, Paul Kahneman. He and two other economists have done extensive studies that prove there is no consistency or fairness in judges' sentences, and judgements of exactly the same crime can have widely varying sentences. Judges are not fair and impartial, but then I think we all knew that. The research gives us insight into how irrational and biased humans are, even when they feel confident they are. So the Supreme Court is just as emotional and biased as the rest of our citizens. Even factors like climate temperature, tone of voice and appearance play a much bigger role than judges think. Random AI does a better job of sentencing but not by much. Simply put, the courts do a terrible job of impartiality. This illuminates why debates in Congress and among our citizens become so heated and blaming. As my Buddhist teacher says, we are not so evolved as we wish we were. Human fraility and failure is evident everywhere. Let's hope for the best with his nominee process but I think we'll all be unsurprised if it does not turn out to be a pretty picture.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The tree people were here all yesterday, so I didn't come out to the studio to do my blog. Today I noticed our bridge is broken, and plants in pots and pretty much everything in the back upper yard. So after they get the last two piles of wood, we will have a lot of broken stuff to haul out of here. Our son-in-law will help with that, but we will need a junk hauler to take it away. So the things needing replacing are for the grandchildren to enjoy. I can designed the back for them. This is sad, but no tragedy. it's not important in the larger scheme of things I know. But with all of us, these ordinary little things become tipping points after two years of fear, anxiety and grief. Today I go to the eye doctor to check out what is wrong with my eyes. Is it the syndrome I have, or something new? I'm remaining calm, but it doesn't help my mood. I had two friend encounters yesterday. A walk in the morning with my friend who is undergoing cancer treatment, and we had fun looking at houses in my neigborhood, and in the afternoon I walked over to another friend's backyard and we had tea in the sunshine. Then we walked back to my area together, as she wanted to stop at the grocery seven houses from me to pick up a few things. I showed her the memorial to a florist whose shop is right by me. He died recently, and he was such a kind, funny person with amazing artistic skills. I had noticed both he and the owner, a woman from Germany, were frailer and I worried about him when I saw him going to or from his car. We always had thirty minute conversations when I went in the shop to buy flowers. He was warm hearted and curious, and had a laugh that told you you had delighted him. I will miss his presence in the neighborhood. No flowers are by the door, and I thought of Princess Diana and the mountains of flowers. This man was good, kind, well intentioned and will be missed, but he's one of the millions of good souls who pass by almost unnoticed. Not by me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The arborist came by today, and he's not sure if the tree can be saved. There are so many trees down from the storm that it may be quite a time before our yard is safe and usable. What is most disturbing is the bench our son bought for us may not be fixable. Neither is the birdbath or hammock. These are not big things, but they disturb us. It's a like a car accident. You are in shock and feel immobilized. In the meantime we walked to the bookstore to purchase two books for our friend, whose birthday is today. He had canceled his party and was planning a dinner tonight, but now his grandkids are sick, and a couple that would have attended flew home because their granddaughter was sick and they might expose him. So it's just his son, and he must be disappointed. Everyone is experiencing the cancelations. Our women's group has postponed our meeting until the omicron is more under control. We could have zoomed, but we're all pretty sick of that. At least my husband and I took a good walk on a sunny day, and accomplished some errands: fixed his eyeglasses, went to the bank, bought the books and then dropped them off. We got home and I picked up sticks in the back yard, moved a table in the living room, restacked art books, and washed and trimmed green beans for dinner. Later we will pick up the two grandsons at preschool and see them for the first time in over two weeks. I've just got this feeling our distasterous back yard will be of major interest to two bungly toddlers.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, it's beeen a heck of a few days. I had a migraine headache Thursday, the first of my life, I believe caused by my new houssecleaners using Clorox with abandon, and I really sufferend for 24 hours. Since then my eyes have had problems, so I need to see my eye doctor tomorrow. Friday morning we woke up to a huge tree branch from our cedar tree having crashed into everything in the backyard and demolished our bird bath, hammock and breaking one of the legs on the bench our son gave us to remember our daughter by. It can be fixed, but the metal hammock frame and bird bath are toast. We're so lucky, though. Neither the house or studio was touched, except a branch pushed open the door of the studio and I just swept out a lot of branches and mess. The tree guys sawed up branches to clear the walkway to the studio, and we await the arborist to see what needs to be done or if the tree must come down. My stress level is super high, and my escape into reading not possible with my splotchy sight. I can read, but it's distressing, so not really the rx for my mental state of mind. I know Things could be way worse. How could I not know that with the news and my kids and grandkids having to isolate from omnicron cases and in and out of school like yoyos. But allow me to whine a little bit, just for today.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Now my daughter-in-law has been exposed to Covid in her fifth grade classroom. She has ashma, so we are all nervous. Every day there is a reminder that we are not out of the woods yet. I just finished calling my childhood best friend on her birthday. Her college roommate is visiting, which makes it so nice for her. They are preparing a big brunch right now, so I didn't talk long, but she was pleased with the book I sent her and sent a delightful photo of her holding it. As we've aged, and not had the incessant demands of motherhood and work pressuring us, we have become closer, and share our deeper feelings and provide support to each other. We had planned a trip to the northwest, possibly Vancouver, B.C., but of course all the planning has been put off because of the omicron variant. We have three family birthdays coming up in February, but whether any of us will see each other is another question. Uncertainty. Something Buddhists are supposed to get comfortable with, but really, do we ever?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

This morning I Finished Rickard Powers' "Bewilderment". I cried at the end. It is such a soulful novel, and so timely. It's filled with the sorrow of our present day existence: climate change, extinction, capitalism run rampant and blinded politicas, that it enabled me to mourn some of what our country is playing out, and not our country alone. I really cared about the three main characters, and my emotions were engaged throughout. The book expresses what I fear and hope for my grandchildren and their future. I'm making it sound daunting, but it is an easy read, with short chapters and so much lush description that it expands the mind. It's clear connection to Buddhism was comforting, and it's heart is to pray that all sentient beings be spared suffering to the extent possible as humans. I found the message profound.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I took a walk with a friend today. Her partner had to cancel his 75th birthday party because of Omicron. They know people who, though fully vaccinated and boostered, have gotten the variant, and it's a little too cold to do the party outside right now. It's adding to a long list of celebrations not happening, events not occuring, and rituals not able to be attended to. She was feeling a bit low, and when I returned home my son said his son had been exposed today to Covid in his classroom. Everyone's jumpy. I won at Scrabble this afternoon, a rare occurence because my husband is more skilled and has phenomenal luck as well. But this time, I got the J,X and Z and he couldn't use the Q he drew for lack of a U. Otherwise he would have won. In the morning paper now there are more word puzzles, and he's been asking me about them, which is fun. I lend him my phone of Fridays to do the NYTimes News Quiz, which I usually score a bit higher. More trivia packed in my brain. And thus the days pass without enough stimulation and social interaction, but what can you do?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a sunny day, and we have taken a walk, had lunch and are possibly going to work on our photos again after a long hiatus. Unfortunately, I have no excuses to avoid it any longer. I've been thinking about watercolors. I had a brief period when I did some little paintings in watercolor that seemed to work out well, years ago, when I was on retreat with my Zen teacher. I have them hanging up in the downstairs bathroom (well, they are not THAT good). Another yen I havee is to buy more fabric and make some runners, placemats and napkins. I used to do that, and every time I eat at my daughter's house, I noticee some I gave her years ago. I just want to create SOMETHING, even if it is awful. I have very limited skills with which to work. I used to frame some photos I did, but noticed when I gave them to people they disappeared, so that was a hint there was not much talent there. When people ask me what I wish I could have been, I usually say: painter, costume designer, or play an instrument. I've already tried writing, and was a resounding failure, but never a day goes by when I don't write. I write in my blog, in my gratitude journal, in my Buddhist notebook, of not scribble some poems or a memoir like piece. But I hunger for a different expression of my feelings, something not involving words. It would still be a kind of speech, but more from the heart perhaps. We'll see if I take up a project. I think I'm desperate enough to try it.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went for a walk with my friend who is undergoing treatment for cancer. She is faring pretty well with the pill she takes. So far no negative side effects. Today the sun came out, and we took our time stopping in front of landscaping we liked and admiring certain houses. Then we sat on the deck in her back yard and confessed we don't believe there will be any end to this covid threat. There will be other variants, maybe worse ones, and we will have to venture out eventually. My son's in-laws are going to Palm Springs for a month, and my friend leaves next week for Hawaii. We will take risks because otherwise we will be in permanent lockdown, like prisoners with electronic bracelets. I'm not sure what my big first risk will be, but I expect it will be traveling. Maybe to see the two grandchildren up north, or somewhere warm. The thing is, when I do this, I hope it is with a couple of other people, so that I will have social interactions. My daughter was constrained by the vulnerability of cancer and the covid, but she didn't live any longer because she was cautious, and perhaps she was past social interactions, but the choice was not hers. She ended up with me and her ex-husband and daughter, and not her close friends. Maybe that was because we would miss her the most, but it must have made it hard. I hope not.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We decided to take a drive this afternoon, and I have the carsickness to prove it. My husband had an idea of getting to this river and following it, but when we found it chemical plants and power stations and other lethal looking structures marred the shoreline and were gated and locked, so we were left thinking they'd picked the river to dump pollutants in more easily. The town was depressing and we meandered trough another depressing town until we turned around and I showed him a sweet town of 30,000 that had a charming courthouse and lots of antique stores and shops and cafes. We did not get out, because this is so not the time for exposing oneself, and we'd already taken an hour walk right before lunch. What depressed me about the adventure was how far out people have to live to be able to afford housing, and what dreary, tract house buildings they are forced to inhabit. I felt guilty about my fortunate circumstances, and imagined my new cleaning lady having a long commute and living in a soulless abode with no greenery around. Life is unjust, and I hate to feel as priviledged as I am. I can only enjoy my house because I bought it thirty years ago, at a price that wouldn't buy anything today. I am old and therefore I benefit from not having moved in over three decades. I guess I'll go back to walking with frriends around my neighborhood, and not exploring the darker recesses of capitalism.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got up at dawn to go get a lab test, and when I got there remembered I have not been able to master the urine sample. I can't pee! This is the opposite of my normal life, where I have to pee if I look at a drop of water on a leaf. Sure enough, I tried drinking a cup of water, but only a trickle appeared. I was pretty shaken up, because I'd been worrying about catching covid at the lab, and had neglected to consider the one thing that might keep me in there longer. After I returned home, I found that not only had I been awake since five am, but my husband had not been able to go back to sleep after I left him. After careful consideration, we have decided to swear off the Brokenwood Mysteries CDCs for a while. We've been watching two a night, and that is three hours of mayhem, and evidently we don't have the consitutions for it. I had begun closing my eyes during the autopsy scenes, but that is not enough. We have joked that in a fictional town of five thousand in New Zealand, at the rate the series is dispatching bodies, there will be no inhabitants left, just dead people. We used to watch Death in Paradise, and had the same complaint. For such a tiny island, there seemed to be an unlimited amount of victims of violence. Perhaps our Covid empacted brains cannot deal with this kind of mortality in fiction. We've got more than enough of it in our real lives.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I couldn't sleep last night. Right before bed I felt like I needed an antacid, but failed to take one. I don't know if my husband's restlessness caused my own, or dinner upset me or I was nervous because I wanted to do lab tests this morning. I'm a great sleeper normally, and I was kind of stunned I didn't drift off. This morning I finally gave up and got out of bed at 9:20. My husband had had a bad dream, but I refused to hear about it, I was too grumpy about my lack of sleep. He always promises he will sleep in the guest bedroom if he's restless, but he never does. Anyway, I did not do my lab test so I will go tomorrow. We did take a walk this morning, but I feel depressed and disoriented. I know lots of people have trouble sleeping, but it's a shock for me. Seeing the headlines on my phone doesn't help either, and writing birthday cards and mailing them didn't help. I need to buy three birthday gifts, but can't make myself go out to look. I'm depressed that my youngest grandson is out of preschool again with a cough and had to do a covid test yesterday, and his parents are forced to take turns skipping work to take care of him. If it wasn't for covid, I'd happily watch him, but until we get the test results, I shouldn't. I am deeply discouraged about the pandemic, like everyone else, and I have trouble wanting to read, watch TV, walk, talk on the phone and other distractions. It's like a bad Groundhog Day.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Two sounds that have been comforting me recently are a frog croaking in our backyard, or somewhere very nearby and an owl hooting at night. I can'y sight either of them, but I love knowing they are close by. In my neighborhood I've seen, over the years, a huge buck deer, opossums, racoons, a gray fox, squirrels, and the endless array of rats. There is the cat Toby who meanders around our yard, hoping for birds, but too big and clumsy to catch any. We have a bird feeder attached to a window in the sun room, so we see a variety of birds. But the unseen...the experience is special. Years ago I hiked a way up past part of the campus to see two baby Great Horned owls sitting in a tree. Their parents were further up the hill watching, but the path had been blocked off for dogs and the people who came up were quiet and respectful. Two crows live in the parkway across from my steps and often greet me if I'm coming or going. They never fly away because they reccognize me and because I always talk to them a few minutes. There is a Peregrine falcon and his mate who have nested for years in the Campanile on campus, and recently a male ursurper attacked the male, who had to be treated at a wildlife center, but he's back now with his mate. There is a whole, mostly silent and secret world we live among here.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, a new bright spot in our firmament is pig hearts. As if we hadn't already thought of a million ways to torture animals, and made BLTs the sandwich du jour, now we can use pigs for body parts. Actually, I think I have a few pig body parts already, and without the surgery. I won't eat pork, because I know from my twp grandma's farms how intelligent and sweet they are. Plus I've seen "Babe" a few times. I know, it saved a man's life, but really. Our collective souls are on fire for what we humans do to animals, and this just puts the icing on the cake. Would I refuse a pig heart? Perhaps if I were young and my parents wanted me to live, but, no I don't think so. I am not stupid, I know research does awful things to bring me medicine to aid in my survival. I don't want to know about it, but vaguely, I do. I once was a pork entree on Halloween, when I was in graduate school, but that was not serious. Somehow, this is so sciencefictiony that I envision a rise of the planet of the pigs, and I for one could coexist with the new world order. How could it possibly be any worse than the world we have now?!?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just got off the phone with my therapist. Her husband was in Mexico with some of their grown kids when he got Covid, despite being vaccinated. It was mild after a day and a half of cough and running nose, and he's fine now. My friend's daughter, her husband and four kids also got it and after a miserable couple of days, got better quickly. It seems to be true that the new varient variant is less servere. I'm trying to balance being careful and not freaked out, and am more or less successful throughout the day. Now I'm going for a walk with a friend, and we will no doubt hash this out again along our route. Such is the post Covid world we live in.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

An older friend has moved from one senior living situation to another. She's in her nineties, and definitely needs care, and her daughter is managing her care well, but the first place, while new and spotless, had no activities going on, no outside space whatsoever, and is on a busy thoroughfare with only box stores arond it. It depressed me when I saw it. Now she is in a place where she can walk with her cane, shop at useful places, and take a bus wherever she wants. The first place had no oversight except an executive flying in once a month. Impartial and and profit oriented is how I'd describe it: the corporate model. I hope she'll be happier in the new place, and it's closer to me, so convenient for visiting. But watching older friends struggle with care has made me realize there are not many gems among the choices. Even if you have the money to afford these places, and that's a big if, they are institutional, and run by underpaid, unqualified and undertrained staff. Yes the Covid crisis drew attention to the horror places, but most are not well regulated and really beneficial to the people living in them. The U.S. needs an overhaul of all medical services, oversight and affordable care, with salaries to attract qualified people to be administering the care. Those who choose to believe the TV ads that find a joyous, loving place for "Mom" are outright lies, and our senirs deserve better. But in our current culture, we don't value the elderly, as witnessed by citizens who were fine with the deaths from Covid as long as it was people their parents and grandparents ages. That contempt for our elders is center stage right now, and we ought to pay attention, before we have to face the same choices.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yes, January sixth haunts me, as it does so many of us. I'm glad the President and Vice President have spoken up, because the reconciation effort has proved fruitless. Reason, facts and logic are not what Republicans want to hear. They want to play games with our democracy, for their own benefit, not those of their constituents. We have to keep speaking the truth, so that the discourse is not dominated by lies and distortions. This situation is sadder and more serious than Covid. We are not honoring our Constitution and rule of law. We have a precious, always fragile democracy, and people are actively undermining voters and our governmental process. These far right persons are ignoring their oaths and responsibilities in order to shore up power to remake our country into a place where only the rich get a say in what happens, and the poor are held in contempt. It's a very different environment from the Depression of the 1930s, when government lifted people up and made them feel valued. Is it fear of change, fear of a multicultural country, fear of priviledge withdrawn, or some horrible combination of the Internet and it's lies and fantasies that has loosed this terrible, selfish, uncompassionate wave. I know we must, like the Little Dutch Boy, hold back the crack from breaking apart our foundation, to save us all from drowning.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Well, we took down our holiday decorations, dragged the tree to the curb, where we will have to cut it up to fit in our compost bin, and have everything boxed up to take down to the basement. We are hoping our son-in-law will do that, as some of the bins are gut wrenchingly heavy, due to my collection of snow globes. Now I only buy wool felt kinds of decorations, but back in the day, I hardly gave a thought to lugging stuff up and down. Times have changed. I also picked up eye vitamins, a wreath for the door, and some new books. Tomorrow I will get my new glasses lenses exchanged, talk to my doctor on the phone, and begin to write thank you notes. I am beginning to feel that January hopefulness, due to longer days, many family birthdays, and the possibility of going up to the cabin after the snow disappears. Yes, I am worried about omnicron, and I alternate between fear and hope. My granddaughter can get her booster now, and soon they will have a dose for the almost two and almost three year old grandsons, but their schools and preschools are risktaking in practice, so there is always the anxiety haunting us. This is how we live now. But it does mean every interaction feels precious, not a given.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

So it's the new year, which, most importantly to me, means the days are getting longer. I welcome that and the crazy spring flowers that will pop up here, due to our confusion of seasons. It's been cooler for longer than I remember, so maybe the daffodils and grape hyacinth will stall. I would normally be thinking of trips to take and maybe more socializing, but the varient has taken care of those dreams. Enjoying my two grandchildren who are close by and visiting the one an hour and a half away is my joy these days, plus talking with friends on the phone and walking with ones who are willing to venture out. It's time to take on a task. Last fall I was absorbed in my daughter's memorial service, but now I think I need a writing project and possibly a sewing one as well. I have thank yous from the holidays to write, and a couple of letters in response to Christmas cards. I could look again at the forty some pages I wrote about my daughter last summer, but it would be painful. Then there is the physical I should probably schedule with my doctor and lab tests etc. Ugh. That prospect is highly unattractive. Oh, well, I'll find things to do, books to read, music to listen to, and just appreciate all the quiet moments, when I'm not anxious, and gratitude waves over me like a warm bath.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just listened to a dharma talk by my teacher Anam Thubten, about having the intention to rewire our consciousness by pausing in our thoughts to be aware of deeper issues we wish to work on. As I told my granddaughter a couple of days ago, I have my Buddhist vows to challenge me and work on, and they will take up the rest of my life. This blog is about right speech, but all the eight vows bear attention. When I am ready to sleep at night, I first write in my gratitude journal, then pray. I'm not asking some deity for help, and am focusing my mind on the people I love, paying respect to their needs, feeling compassion for them, and in some cases expressing my fears openly. My mind thus is on the things that count, not the rest of the white noise in our lives. I sleep really well, and seldom have dreams that our memorable or disturbing. When I do, I welcome them as a way my mind is working on my deepest fears and losses. Intention takes us beyond thoughtless habits, and refocuses us on what matters. I do this pausing many times a day, and feel a surge of energy when I do. It's like screwing my head on straight again. It needs to be done a great deal in my case.