Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I was somewhat disconcerted last night when the gratitude journal I'm writing in each night asked the question who was I more myself with.  I first felt that I didn't know what myself consisted of, and then that I am rarely myself with others, even my closest friends and husband.  To say I hold things close to the vest is an understatement.  I learned to do this because I got teased a lot as a child, especially within the family.  I don't want to be vulnerable.  I wrote last night that I'm most myself in my writing or alone in nature.  I avoid confrontation, which means I don't address my hurt feelings or even misunderstandings with others, because in the past the outcome has been so disappointing.  But I realize these days I feel most myself when I tap into my Buddha nature.  When I feel compassionate and do kind acts or speech, then I know I'm home true.  So the rest of it:  the grudges, hurt feelings and judging, is not me and I don't need to take it personally.  I am getting free of that delusion, and my relationships with others should be updated to reflect increasing trust and connection.  Something to work on, for sure.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I'm going with a friend to a symposium tonight about new research on breast cancer.  We've been going to these together since she and my daughter were first diagnosed with breast cancer, over five years ago.  I've had a lot of friends survive breast cancer, and mostly there was no reoccurence, but I've lost friends also.  My friend had a good diagnosis, and had only radiation, and despite some side effects from the surgery, she's thriving.  But her world has changed, and she has been in a support group and weekly also sees friends she's made who struggle with the illness.  My daughter had a stage two diagnosis and underwent double chemo and the maximum radiation,  and almost a year and a half ago it appeared again:  stage four with spots in the brain.  They did radiation for the brain then got her on a chemo pill twice a day that got rid of the cancer, but recently, she had one tiny spot on the brain and a one time radiation.  So she's fighting the good fight in a way that is ever present and worrisome.  I go to these talks and then write up what the doctors say about prevention, diet, treatments and cutting edge new procedures.  Then I sent it to my daughters, daughters-in-law and any other friends who might like the information.  I know researchers are working hard, and there is a lot of money for breast cancer research, and I pray that this scourge is eradicated.  And very soon.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I spent the weekend with the older of my two grandsons.  When it came time for Mommy and Daddy to leave Saturday night, I realized he had a fever and asked them to give him tylenol.  He wasn't hungry, and he complained about being babysat.  I listened.  He complained some more.  I asked about school, and he talked about his friends.  I suggested he get in his jammies, but no.  Finally, I brought in his pullup and jammies and said I'd help him get changed in the breakfast nook.  That got him hopping up because he didn't change in the kitchen, silly, so I lifted him onto the bed and quickly dressed him for bed, then we read from a book about Ruby the red fairy, and slowly his head drooped, he slid back and pretty soon his head was resting on my shoulder.  I read most of the little chapter book, then tucked him in and turned out the light.  He was like Little Bear, not tired, definitely not tired, then asleep.  His parents returned from their party, my son having won the prize as Haggrid (it was a Harry Potter dinner) and refreshed, because they'd had a night out.  Next day the fever was still there, so my grandson and I stayed home while his parents went to meet other family members for a brunch to celebrate Mommy's birthday.  They didn't take the cake with them, as my grandson was anxious about it leaving the house (maybe it would get all eaten up and he'd not get a piece) so when they returned we sang the birthday song and he and Mommy blew out the three candles (perhaps not accurate for Mommy, but my grandson is coincidentally three).  All was well with the world again, and I drove home cherishing my snuggle time with my extra warm little grandson.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I just finished a terrific mystery, by Jane Harper, an Australian writer.  "The Lost Man" is her third mystery, and the first two were great reads as well.  This one is so evocative of the outback and the life people lead there, and also who can tolerate that existence and who cannot.  It's in the third person, but the character the reader follows is Nathan, the oldest of three brothers.  They have grown up in isolation, and Nathan is struggling now with his plot of land that is too barren, his divorce, and his relationship with his teenage son.  When his brother Cameron is found out in the desert, dead from the heat, no one can figure out how he got separated miles from his vehicle, still able to start up promptly and filled with water, food, supplies and the means to send a distress signal.  As Harper peels back the layers of memory and interacts with his family again after years of separation, we slowly understand that something insidious is at the root of this family,  Each discovery for Nathan is like a revelation.  He pieces together the clues like a master detective.  I really cared for these people by the end of the book, and appreciated the window in to another world and way of living. 

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I went to the Oakland Museum White Elephant sale with a friend.  We go together each year.  She bought a wooden German Christmas ornamental candle thing, about three feet tall, and a box and jewelry.  I bought two baby fabric toys, a Noah's ark and a fire truck.  Also a pillow with a train on it and two sweaters and two pants for the three year old grandson.  I found two small trucks and a logging truck for the two year old grandson.  And a painting for my daughter-in-law's birthday.  A South American woven rug for my younger daughter. And for me, an elephant the size of my palm with tiny forks set in the back.  Strange but beautiful.  And a Spanish/Moroccan carved box with a replica of the lion fountain of the Alhambra courtyard.  I adore the Alhambra and so it will bring back happy memories.  I'm exhausted.  Nine tenths of the warehouse I didn't even see.  As usual, I drooled over the china, useless as I don't entertain and I have no place to even store any of it.  But there was a Turkish plate, small, in bright blue, orangey red and aqua that I desired passionately.  I resisted many "bargains" and though my goal was a street sweeper toy for the younger grandson and there weren't any, I did stick to the practical mostly.  Okay, the elephant is justifyible because I collect them and perhaps only the Alhambra souvenir is frivolous.  But there were so many things I didn't buy, all at mostly $1 to $5.  I would say I had admirable self control.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I mailed off some books to my granddaughter, who is a passionate reader, and a box for an in-law's new baby girl (a quilt, floorcloth, an outfit, two stuffies knit blankets, and a book for the older brother).  It was intended to all be completed before the birth, but you know how that goes.  Now I need to focus on a grandson to be born in April.  I have lots of elephant themed material, plus a quilt kit and a kit to make a cloth book.  Cutting out is almost the hardest part for me.  I am making these knit stuffed animals tiny blankets, because when I gave one each to my two grandsons, they were such a big hit.  The younger one sleeps with his.  The stuffed kitty has been abandoned, but his blanket is going strong.  This is the grandson who makes a nest to sleep, birdies included.  Both grandsons love Curious George and I've been thinking about what appeals.  I believe it is the sense that even if you get into trouble, or do the wrong thing, you are still loved and the situation gets resolved.  The naughty behavior does not affect how much you are adored.  The man with the yellow hat is steadfast in his love and loyalty.  This toddlerhood is the age of "no", hearing it, saying it, things breaking, climbing and falling.  The Curious George books embody total acceptance that the experimenting and breakage is normal and no big deal.  We all need a man with the yellow hat.  That's how we continue to be curious and open and thrive.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I read that tonight and tomorrow morning there is a Super Moon, huge and dramatic, and since it is visible during my awake hours, I'm planning on viewing.  Last night, I could not sleep, but nothing was running through my mind and I hadn't had caffeine or a large dinner or any of the usual culprits.  I was calmly reading before bed, a mystery by Jane Harper called "The Lost Man" which is the third book she's written and I'm devoted at this point.  She writes about the way outback in Australia, and she is so skilled that it comes to life vividly.  But nothing really has happened in the book yet to disturb me.  Something must have been triggered.  Maybe it's the sense of the main character's utter loneliness; living alone, being estranged from his family and his son, and the speculation that his brother, who has been found dead of natural causes, but away from his vehicle, which had all the supplies he needed to survive and was running fine.  Everyone wonders if it was a kind of suicide, and maybe I thought of my brother.  Suicide inevitably causes the survivors to wonder why, even if, in my case, my brother left a note.  My best friend in my twenties also killed herself, but we had talked and I'd begged her to see a therapist, and I told her husband to get her help immediately, but he didn't.  Plus there was suicide in the family.  I also had a friend who in her early sixties killed herself, but I felt I understood why, from what she'd shared with me.  But my brother, well, there are plenty of reasons, but I guess I can't accept any of them.