Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

TOday is my birthday, and I've already heard from all my children and grandchildren. Also from dear friends. No, I don't have any plans, but that's fine with me. It's super hot here today and so it's best to lay low. I just finished a terrific book by Araminta Hall, Imperfect Women. It's a mystery, but quite a feminist one, and contains a lot of truth. And I have a stack of books still to read, so I'm set. I made a big breakfast this morning: juice, hash browns, veggie sausage, english muffin and melon. With it I had cold coffee from the other day, spashed with milk, and I'm still full now. My husband sent me flowers with huge orangey red roses, the kids all sent gifts, and I bought myself a necklace which has a little gold cardinal and a silver disk carved with an oak tree and the words "All we have is now". Perfect. When I talked to my granddaughter she was happy and about to go off to meet her friend, and her recovery from grief is proceeding in the right direction. The healing continues. I am grateful for my life, my children and grandchildren, my husband, my friends. I FEEL my blessings.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My Buddhist teacher often invokes the image of dancing - dancing with the hindrances that keep us from our true Buddha nature. Today he mentioned the tango, and that picture of him doing the tango caused me to smile broadly. But how do I know? Maybe he's an expert on tango. What he's saying is not to fight against our human nature and limitations, but embrace imperfection and thus be able to feel the joy. Yesterday I made popovers, and the magic of it: the rising in the hot oven, the hollowness as you break the popover apart and perhaps add peach preserves, the amazement that something made of simple flour, salt, milk, eggs and butter can be so sublime. I immediately had the desire to drop some off at my daughter's house for them. And I will do that today. Is it a weakness to adore certain foods? I think not. Our pleasure arrives in tiny packages, mostly. The frogs at night, crows congregating on the cedar tree, a blossom bursting out of a cactus. We are sensual beings, and our joy manifests through sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch. If we can't right now touch others because of the covid, we can caress leaves, hold a rose steady while we inhale its perfume, pat our blankets and pillows. We are more alive when we treasure our senses, and our brief but often shining lives.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

We had a pleasant brunch with old friends out on our patio, six feet apart. It felt "normal". A rare feeling these days. I made a frittata with potatoes, red pepper, mushrooms, zuchini and yellow squash, popovers and melon with lime. Friends are what keep me sane. And we are all kind of getting the hang of how to safely connect. I will do this more as time goes on, because there is no kidding myself any longer that the pandemic will be over soon, or in January or next year. This is the way we must live. My friend two states away told me we will see each other again, and I embrace that hope, but in the meantime it is the meantime. Phone calls are my best connection, even more than Facetime, and I'm appreciating them more. Faces are a rarity, and walking about we only see masks. Bottom line: we want to live longer, even if we have been blessed with a long lifespan already. I look forward to seeing my grandkids again and reintroducing myself as grandma. Grandma is my best self.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was looking for the Discourse on Lovingkindness which is a Buddhist chant the other day, and came upon notebooks full of "weather reports". My Zen teacher encouraged us to email a report each week on the state of our practice, but about four years ago her dementia made it impossible for her to continue, The first report I saw was one about my brother's suicide. I tucked it back in the book, but literally there were hundreds of reports over the years, and it might make some interesting reading for me sometime. A kind of witness to what I was thinking and feeling back in the day. I used to believe my kids or grandkids would read these reports, and my poems and novels, and know more about me. But now I'm not so sure, and I realize it doesn't matter if they save them or ever read them. I write because I must, because I learn what I think from writing, and because even if my only reader is me, I've still reached out to all sentient beings, because I matter. I matter to me. And that's an achievement.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my husband's birthday. He's feeling good partly because he has his new IPhone and is getting lots of calls. It's nice it's working out the way I hoped. Yesterday my friend and I went to her husband's gravesite and sat in lawn chairs and talked about him and death and bardo. He's been dead 24 years, so has missed his two kids' graduations, wedding, work achievement, etc. I talked about my first husband, who missed so much of our two children as well. He's been dead 36 years, so graduations, weddings, grandchildren and of course, the death of our daughter two months ago. We discussed how it feels to witness someone you love's death, and how difficult it is to wrap your mind around the loss. Very philosophical we were. The sun was shining, they were mowing the grass on the hill, we forgot our hats, but wore our masks, as we contemplated the mysteries.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Our 3 year old grandson started preschool this morning, and our daughter says he had tears in his eyes but went willingly with the teacher. It was a wrenching decision for my daughter and her husband to make, but he was craving playing with other kids, and to be allowed into a playground. Hopefully, the school's safety precautions will protect them. So now we are on our own, without being able to see any grandchildren without masks, social distancing and being outside. Two are in another state, so they are unavailable anyway. I plan on writing a baby book for the 6 month old, organizing photos with my husband, doing my exercise video and walking, and talking, talking, talking on the phone. I feel I can do this, but the dreary weather, the smoke on and off, the shorter days, the election gloom, even the holidays make me struggle to be upbeat. What will our holidays be this year? Zoom, I guess. Blah!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My husband finally ordered an IPhone, but it takes a village to get it up and running. His anxiety goes into overdrive with gagets though he's better than me at such things generally. I had to forbid him to talk to me about it last night, as he sat on the bed while I was attempting to read. Today we are going to our daughter's house for lunch so he can have her put the sim card in and get him going. He's so stressed out I wonder right now if it's worth it. But I was tired of him: telling me my phone had made a sound, asking me to look up the weather, handing over the phone so he could see photos, giving MY NUMBER to all the services we signed up for, and me having to put him on my orders because he had no cell. I know he will love it eventually, but will I still love him?! Hard to say, at this point.