Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

In the middle of the night my husband woke me up and told me, "I don't think we're going to make it through this".  I spent most of the rest of the night feeling our vulnerability and powerlessness over this pandemic.  I am so grateful to the people delivering our groceries, and yell at them as they leave "thank you" and stay safe.  I hope safety is put in place ahead of profit, and yet I am dependent on younger people to deliver food and medicine.  I do not order takeout, because that seems a frivolous risk in these times.  I thanked my doctor this morning when she called to clarify a prescription, and we wished each other safe and well.  The future is always uncertain, but now it is filled with movie like scenarios that terrify us.  I worry about one of my kids or grandkids, then another, then another.  It's soothing to get the photos on my phone, but at the same time I wonder if I will ever see any of them again.  This is, of course, the situation my dearest older daughter is in up north.  My husband and I are traveling up soon, but will she is any of her siblings and nephews again?  The only thing we can do is try to appreciate all the little moments this day, and soak in as much beauty as we can.  Life is so precious, and we must treat it with respect.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The promised rain didn't really appear, just occasional sprinkles.  It feels like the earth should be crying, but that is anthropromophizing.  I lay in bed with my husband this morning while he told me his two dreams.  I understood their meaning immediately, and we talked for an hour.  When I went downstairs and checked my phone, a story about Fiona the hippo in the Cincinnati Zoo caught my eye, and I watched the fifteen minute video of Fiona and her mom.  Fiona was born prematurely and had to be saved by human handling and care.  Thus, she likes and trusts people, especially her keeper.  I learned amazing things about hippos:  how they cannot swim, that they are related to whales and dolphins, how fast they can be on land, and they can hold their breath under water for five minutes.  But it was Fiona's sweet face that touched me, and the love her keeper clearly had for her.  So among the other unsung heroes right now, there are the zookeepers caring for these animals all around us, making sure that their charges' trust is proven right.  Fiona, be at peace, you have made my day!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

The night before last I awoke hearing our doorbell.  It was the middle of the night, and I was confused, wondering if a prescription was being delivered or someone mistook our house for another.  I lay there for a long time.  Then yesterday afternoon my older daughter phoned, which she seldom does, and told me the cancer was growing rapidly in her brain, they were discontinuing the chemo, and she would need us up with her soon, probably in April.  She said she'd talk to her oncologist first, and see how he thought things would progress. 
So the doorbell was death calling.
We will drive up when she tells us, and help her through physican assisted suicide.  My hope is gone, and I can only be a witness to my daughter's unimaginable suffering.  And my granddaughter's.  I hope I have the strength to show some of the courage she has shown.  She is my guide.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Yesterday I was not my best self.  I was restless when I read my book, switched books, and it didn't help.  I was cold when we went out for our walk.  I wanted to call someone, but felt I'd overburdened all my friends.  I only did one wholesome thing yesterday.  I baked two quiches, one with chicken, onions and mushrooms, which we gobbled up last night, the other chicken, peppers and cheese, which I froze.  I was able to do this because of the kindness of my daughter-in-law, who dropped two cartons of milk on our picnic table, as she was heading up to use my studio.  They were delivered to her place.  We had used the last of our milk for cereal that morning.  My husband got himself in a dither and took it out on me, being grumpy and abrupt.  I waited for an apology, but he was mightily self absorbed.  I hugged my resentment like a baby to my chest.  I couldn't let go.  I was clinging to my righteousness.  Never a good idea.  At bedtime I asked for an apology and got it, but it was not freely given, and nothing was healed. 
Today is a new day, and I believe I need a walk by myself  to get my own head screwed on right.  Wish me luck with that!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Last night my husband and I watched "The Count of Monte Christo" again.  As a kid I first read a comic about it, then a child's version, then by 12 the whole book.  I loved and am still fond of Alexandre Dumas.  I suppose I was a romantic, and still am.  We joked about the Chateau D'If, and imprisonment, but frankly, we've got it easy.  Poor Edmond Dantes suffered beatings, rats, and separation from his father, friends and fiance for 13 years.  It's a revenge story with a deep tinge of religion, a la the meek shall inherit the earth variety.  As a child I considered myself meek, we were poor, and I would have loved to have been a countess.  It played to my weaknesses, but it is also a great tale, full of wisdom about humanity.  That is why it still resonates.  As an adult, when I read a biography of Dumas, called "The Black Count" in his time, so much more was revealed.  This was a man of mixed race, on the edge of society, instead of a part of it, who triumphed, much like the Count of Monte Christo and the Man in the Iron Mask.  He had a passion for justice and the poor and overlooked, as did Victor Hugo, my other fave, and that still appeals to me.  Edmond Dantes, c'est moi!

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I had a long phone conversation with a Buddhist friend last evening, and we mainly discussed trees we could see from our windows, though both of us do take walks in our neighborhoods.  She lives in a senior housing complex, and she described how it felt to see a photo put up of someone who has passed away.  I joked that out here in the "real" world people are also leaving this earth at an alarming frequency, and I figured it was our age.  We are of the age for losses, sometimes piled upon each other.  Soon it will be us, because well, we are of that age.  But these Covid 19 deaths are startling, terrifying and mounting up beyond our comprehension.  All we can do is admire the trees, who, by the way, outlive our human lives in lots of cases.  Here, we have many redwoods, so we know they've seen and experienced much history, and watched the struggles and joys of our shorter lived species.  My friend and I find comfort in them:  what they stand for, their resilience, their beauty, the way the clean the air we breathe.  Trees.  Ahhhhh.

Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Today is my dear friend's birthday.  No bear hugs, cake or going out to dinner.  Our new reality is to celebrate remotely, without gifts, and perhaps it's a good challenge.  Words are our gifts these days.  What we say, our tone, our carefulness and skill are needed when we are staring at a FaceTime screen or speaking on the phone.  Right speech has never been more in demand.  Our president will evidently never learn that lesson.  He offers false, contradictory and ill informed comments, instead of allowing doctors and scientists to speak to us with facts.  His fake heartiness is frightening.  He has no idea what real reassurance would look like, because it would involve trust going both ways.  He trusts no one.  Luckily, there are factual sources that we can turn to in this crisis, and we must.  If he lifts restrictions on social distancing, he will be responsible for American deaths.  It appears that he is ready and willing to do that to keep the economy afloat.  I guess he cannot imagine what others of his age are feeling - expendable and undervalued.  There may be fear underneath, but he prefers to show us an image of a tap dancer on stage.  Hale, hearty and utterly delusional.