Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I got a call this morning that our younger son his driving back here with his wife and son from Oregon. The air quality is scaring them there, and they have to be inside all the time. I'm worried about all my grandchildren, but especially the four little boys, because of their developing lungs. The baby is coughing, and their son is next oldest at a year and and a third. Everyone has air filters and is doing their best, but it may not be enough. I feel so sorry my kids have to be terrified for their kids, not just about the pandemic, but also the smoke and fires. And the political situation is frightening as well. All I can do is pray, and for today recognize that our air, as bad as it is, is better than it might be. Everything is becoming very relative. I can see some blue sky and sun and the trees are bright green. Color again comes to the rescue.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

One of the things I'm noticing when I talk to friends right now is an increased equanimity about whatever is happening: fire, pandemic, the upcoming election, losses, illness. It's as if the overwhelm has somehow settled them. I'm not saying there is no anxiety, of course we all feel it. But the sense than "this" will soon be over is dissolved. There is no timeline or endgame, and we now get that. There is more aimless pleasure in a Facetime call. Yesterday I spent a long time talking about nothing with my younger son, his wife and their son. We talked about water painting. I watched my grandson sit in various chairs and move them around. He poured cheerios from a measuring cup into a bowl (my idea), We avoided any serious discussion because we are living in a serious discussion. We just "chatted". That term is often used to diminish the connections between women, as if we are trivial. But chatting is creating a comfort zone for people we care about, and women have much more practice in this skill. I'm happy my son and husband also have skills in this area, and my other son and daughter as well. We're "checking in". It's circling around love, which is what is keeping us all going right now. There is no lessening of love during these current crises. I think we feel it more powerfully and our strength comes from our capacity for love. We don't have to DO anything, we can just BE.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I received two photos of my older two grandsons this morning. One was painting in front of an easel with his painting smock on, using a luscious green color on his paper. The other was observing a butterfly emerge from its crysallis and describing the bits of blue and red and a wash of yellow on its wings. Thus I was reminded by my wise grandchildren how much joy color brings to us, natural or people made. Yellow is the painter's favorite color, and I have to admit he's very persuasive. His room is newly painted yellow. My favorite flowers are daffodils, but I answer aqua when someone asks my top hue. But in times like these, the sheer cheerfulness of yellow is a triumph. I have a friend who years ago advised me to put a splash of yellow somewhere in every room, and I've pretty much done that. I even have a yellow guest bedroom, which does make me happy when I look in, and that is where my grandchildren sleep if they visit. I know that along with turning on music, seeing color around me, without any thought content, soothes. Our hearts are meant to soar at the sight. What a comfort!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today I woke up to news that the area where my son-in-law and granddaughter, son, daughter-in-law and grandson are living is being evacuated due to fire. I immediately texted, and they are not in the zone of evacucation but the air is terrible, as it is here. My anxiety is ratcheted up. We are all trapped on the west coast. We must stay inside and worry, for this situation, like the pandemic, is not going to fixed soon. In the north, there may be rain Monday. I hope so, but it won't help here. It would be fluky to have any rain here, though maybe in the mountains it's possible. We can't help up north, for we need our firefighters here. I've heard of no expression of sympathy from our president, not that I expected one. We keep in contact with each other through our phones. My son was saying if only they had another family with them in their house, but because of covid that isn't feasible. I feel the same way. If I could see my kids and grandkids, I would be comforted and give comfort, but I cannot. We're all in a trap, but each of us facing it without loving support. I pray this ends soon.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Another day of little light, an orangish cast, and bad air. It's supposed to get horrible on the weekend. We were going to see our older son, his wife and our four year old grandson, but no dice. I did my exercise video and our groceries arrived, and I ordered my grandson's birthday gifts. I tried to order something for my granddaughter from a catalogue, but their website is totally messed up and ordering by phone involved a long wait. The only sensible thing to do is call a friend and bother her. Last night my husband and I watched "Skyscraper" with Dwayne Johnson, but all the fires looked no worse than our west coast, and at least they were confined to one building. Big deal. Disaster movies can't scare me. I'm LIVING a disaster film. However, I can't figure out any heroics that would help, so I guess I'm back to writing postcards. I feel like a dinosaur right after the meteor hit, as my three year old grandson likes to describe. Shrouded skies, impending doom, you know. Going extinct. Well I guess I was doing that anyway, but I thought it would be more gradual.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I woke up this morning early, I thought, to pee, but then my husband said, "look at the sky". It was orange, and the outside was dark as night but it was 8:30 am. We had to turn the lights on to move around, and the outside lights and walk lights were on. It looked like the end of the world. it still does three hours later. The air is moderate, but outside seems like dusk before total nightfall. There are new fires north of us, and fires around us, and we are no where near the rainy season. There is nowhere to flee. Mother Nature is seriously angry, and we are partially to blame. I can only hope we change presidents and a new one addresses this catastrophe immediately. I've been texting with family and friends, and talked to our daughter nearby. We try to remain calm, but the feeling is that we are trapped. I had a dream early this morning in which I was with my older daughter and she gripped my hand. It was as if she was assuring me she was still with us, but also, maybe a warning?

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Very apocolyptic today with raging orange sun, dark skies and supposedly the temperature will reach 93 degrees. We feel dread here. Fires are raging, and our fire season has barely begun. Yet strange as these days are, they are no stranger than losing my daughter, or not seeing my kids and grandkids, or talking to everyone over the phone. My friend sent me a photo of her, and there she was, with badly trimmed bangs and hair longer than I've ever seen it. My photo would look the same. I don't even look in the mirror any more, knowing the marks of sorrow in my lined face, the bare forehead (I've let my bangs grow out) and the pallor that marks me. Ego and vanity away. There are more important issues at hand. We are stripped for battle. Let's get down to the nitty gritty. Love this world in all it's imperfections. Love others and ourselves with all our imperfections. LOVE IMPERFECTIONS,