Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent some time this morning reading about crocodiles in the New York Times.  My 2 1/2 year old grandson is fascinated by the "crocodiles" (really alligators) in our nearby zoo.  Since I like the sound of the word crocodile better than alligator, though both are great, I don't correct him.  We visited them last week and two were sunbathing and a third floating in the water with just his eyes above, as he was resting his head on a submerged log.  I like the fact that crocodiles, when their mouths are closed, have overlapping teeth that seem to be grinning.  I like the shape of their heads better as well.  But either will do.  They are huge, everyone has a story about a poodle snatched from a grassy area in Florida, there is the alligator wrestling, which is absurd but real, and they serve, like wolves, snakes, sharks and tigers, as the boogeyman for many cultures.  But in East Timor, they are eating the public, despite the local belief they are ancestors.  They are ancestors all right; both crocodiles and alligators are from the time of the dinosaurs, but they split off and survived.  They are our T Rex.  I think my grandson sees them as monsters, but is curious and testing his bravery.  Me?  I must have a little bit of toddler still in me.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

It's a sunny day and my friend and I took a walk toward cappuchinos then decided to do some errands on our way back.  I helped her pick out a card for her mother, who lives with her, to send to her granddaughter back east.  We decided on a movie to see, maybe tonight, and she asked if I wanted to take a class in October to write editorials for newspapers.  As none of mine ever get published, I agreed.  Then we discussed a class I'm signed up for for my granddaughter and I, and she may take her granddaughter as well.  We parted ways at the top of the hill, having challenged our quadraceps.  I'm sweaty but happy, as such ordinary things make me aware of my blessings.
Yesterday was all about the extraordinary:  the flower show, the art, the fascinator hats, the fancy clothes.  Today, a nice walk in the sunshine with a friend.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We went to a flower show at an art museum this morning, and it was amazing and delightful, despite the crowds.  Some floral arrangements were echoing the color of the art work, some the composition, some the figures, some all aspects, and others were a response to the artwork, without specific connections.  The creativity of the florists was extraordinary.  And fun.  Really fun.  We were forced to look at the artwork differently, and closely examine the floral arrangement and bounce our eyes back and forth to compare. 
Not only were the arrangements dazzling, but the volunteers for the museum had fascinator hats on the identify them, as they were selling raffle tickets to benefit the museum.  And then there were the ladies, ladies who lunch, with their big diamonds, their six thousand dollar purses, their fabulous sheath dresses and amazingly coifed hair.  I don't go places like Rodeo Drive to see this segment of the public, so it was a bit of a kick.  Some had children, usually girls, dressed in sister organdy dresses and shoes, who posed against the backdrop of the bouquets. 
It was all a little bit crazy, but like entering through the looking glass, to a world of artifice and glamour.  Fun!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I love the way my grandsons are still willing and thrilled with pink nail polish and rainbow shirts.  They don't see gender in most cases, though they both love trains and trucks over dolls.  They love to play with girls, and the girls are rough and tumble, as my granddaughter was at this age.  How it will all change is fairly predictable, though not certain.  But right now, they are free of all that stereotyping.  I can vaguely remember wanting to be Roy Rogers.  My parents bought me a cowgirl hat, vest and six guns.  But Dale Evans was not my hero, it was Roy, Trigger and Bullet.  My mother was sending me to dance school, so I had fancy, sparkly outfits she made for me and I still have my ballet and tap shoes.  Later, I had an affinity for Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley.  I still have the musicals and watch them once in a while.  But the lesson in those days was to pretty yourself up and be a bride at the end.  Submit to the male.  I'm not saying I regret switching gears, as being a cowboy was contraindicated considering I'm part Native American.  Who wants to be on the losing side?  But sometimes it feels like being female is being on the losing side, too. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I listened to a lovely dharma talk by my teacher yesterday about watching the ego.  He told a story of a student who wanted to study with a Sufi master but lost the will to continue and left for many years.  He realized he still desired to know the most important teaching of the master, and returned, expressing his regret.  The master reassured him:  You didn't miss anything.  The sum of all my teachings can be written on a fingernail:  Drop the ego. 
My teacher also related how obsessed he'd been when the film "Lord of the Rings" came out, and then he was waiting for the second film, and then the final one.  He was able to laugh at this craving later.  But he realized the Golem was his favorite character because he represents the struggle of ego.  Golem is switching sides from ego to right behavior back and forth.  It's funny, but he is all of us.  Trying to do the right thing, but hampered by greed, vengance, hatred, jealousy and all the rest of the concoctions the ego swims in. 
When we can watch ourselves as we lean toward ego, then we can see the humor in our antics and be of a forgiving, non-judgemental mind.  But the watching is forever, because the ego is strong and tricky.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My brother could have been a double for Elton John, and perhaps that had something to do with my love of the musician and his music.  My brother also had the world at his feet as a young person until alcohol and drugs tore him down.  Both of them went into recovery programs at the same time and stayed sober the rest of their lives.  But my brother never found the love he was searching for, and thank goodness Elton John did.  The new movie "Rocketman" is sensational.  Not a bioflick, but an evocation of the dazzling, amazing, craziness of Elton John and his power and talent.  Taron Edgerton is not a look alike, and he sings differently than Elton John, but with the same passion and electricity.  The film is thrilling, exhilarating and deeply moving.  I cried.  A lot.  Focusing on his early years is brilliant.  Each character is well acted, especially Jamie Bell as Bernie Taupin.  Maybe I was crying for my brother, but I think it was all my brothers out there, with gifts untold and a light meant to shine. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday our social butterfly grandson (actually the younger one) attached himself to a three year old girl and they played and played.  This was at the zoo, but they ignored the animals and ran and slid and fell on a grassy area over and over and over.  Eventually, her mother dragged her away, and we tempted our grandson with looking at the crocodiles (really they are alligators) and he was interested in the lemurs with their long striped tails and the huge tortoises, who were very active yesterday (that means their heads came out and one or two moved like snails).  After we returned home we watched Cinderella together and read ten books, heavy on Curious George.  Then he went on the front porch while my husband was talking to our gardener, and he hopped and chattered away to her like a magpie.  To fully impress her he spit on the cement, and she told him not to do that, but I believe it was a homage to her, albeit a toddler version of dazzling skill.  She, too, left after a while, and he was stuck with his grandparents until his mother turned up to reel him in and take him home.