The moon is shining in the sky this morning, announcing we may have sun. It is as bright as the little bird next to me, a feathered friend I love.
My hair this morning has a piece that is sticking up like the topknot on a quail. It seems it will be there until I hop into the shower. It is quite determined to rise. I think of my quail friends this morning. They are often exuberantly here, chattering and defending and standing up even to the car. I wonder where they are now, where they go.
I am reading Victor Vernon Woolf's book, The Dance of Life, about Holodynamics. I'm not far enough into the book to understand it yet, or maybe a course is required to "get" it, but what I am absorbing so far is the idea of "becoming" something else, or someone else, to understand what is going on for them. Vern was scuba-diving when he had a face to face encounter with a manta ray where the manta ray took him on a "trip" of experience. He traveled ike Scrooge in The Christmas Carol. (That's my analogy. It may not be how Vern would describe it.) It was quite something, so I thought this morning I would imagine myself as a quail. Maybe today I will encounter them, though I believe they usually arrive later in the spring. The trees continue amazing, with blossoms of pink, white, and yellow. Each blossom is like a band-aid on the wounds that simmer within. I am dwelling with the passing of my cousin Greg, and in great concern for little Kara who is not healing as we all have wished. She will not come home from the hospital today. It is agonizing for her and her family, and my body/mind shares their pain.
Prayers for all who suffer right now. I look out on the moon and swing myself up on its light, and still, I feel some weight of concern within.
and just as I type Light, the sky lays a pink blanket on the ridge. Oh, and now, there is a pink streak in the sky. Wow!
Like that, may Kara heal and come home!!
The only way to bring peace to the earth
is to learn to make our own lives peaceful.
- The Buddha
My thoughts today are still strongly with my cousin Greg. Memories flood back, and, as my brother says, the memories seem like today though many are over fifty years old. How can that be? It is the childhood memories that speak strongest, though one time after he had been stationed in Alaska for a winter, he visited us in San Diego. I remember him now sitting in the chair, thinking he had gone to heaven. He was astonished at the array of fresh fruits and vegetables, the air. My friend Lee is in Alaska right now, and perhaps this is a mild winter. She said it is 20 degrees above zero and people are out cavorting in shirts and shorts. She is bundled, being of our weaker bay area blood.
Greg read my blog and sometimes teased me about the "California slant." It was fun to know he was there, possibly rolling his eyes at times. I miss him and his response.
I continue to hear and to read how strongly people fear for the safety of Barack Obama, fear that when we last had hope like this, our hope was assassinated right before our eyes, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.
We have to believe, to envision him held in a lovely cocoon of white light, envision him as our president in full and open stride.
How sad it is that Ralph Nader lingers on, the only remaining dinosaur, determined to do what? What kind of ego would not see the damage he has done, and would not creep quietly away? We have a man who offers hope, the father of two, and we fear for his life. How sad is that?
People fear voting for him because they don't want him to die. I must admit I had a touch of the same feeling. I want him alive for his family, and for the country. Surely, we can keep him safe.
In Sharon Salzberg's book, Lovingkindness: The Revolutionary Art of Happiness, she writes:
According to the Buddha, "You can search through the entire universe for someone who is more deserving of your love and affection than you are yourself, and that person is not to be found anywhere. You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection."
I told Jane I was going to do the taxes today that I had planned to do over the weekend, but then, felt too devastated to do.
She asks me just now if I am begun. I explain that my doing of taxes is a ritual. I have candles lit, and I am going through prayers, poems and meditations. I prepare. I consider the vast outflow of money that is taxes, the energy, and I want to honor the ritual of preparing my taxes, the gift of opening up to see what I gave this year, to honor what matters to me.
I like to image my tax dollars as used for children, parks, schools, and roads. Other people can image their tax dollars for weapons and security if that is what matters to them, but I prefer to imagine children playing in parks, running and jumping with minds filled with poems, air and teachings of rational and intuitive thought.
This is a long explanation to say that for me doing my taxes is more than opening the forms, and pulling out the folder of receipts. It is an honoring of a huge part of my life, a re-examination of this last year.
I take time to prepare before I begin the actual act, and then it seems to flow rather easily, but it takes me time to expand to begin.
Antonio Machado -
People possess four things that are no good at sea: anchor, rudder, oars, and the fear of going down.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez -
Imagination is like a car battery. When you leave it inactive, is when it runs down.
The event of creation did not take place so many eons ago, astronomically or biologically speaking. Creation is taking place every moment of our lives.