January 8th, 2009

alan - purple flowers

This morning -

I overslept, which means I woke at 6:20.  

Ah, I pause for a moment.  I am looking out on a pink cloud.  I must absorb that pinkness.  

I felt I had missed my meditation time because I like to check my email before I talk to Jane at 7.

I read the post of a friend.   She was beating herself up for not doing enough and I saw myself and all of us in that.

Her post stopped me in my tracks, or perhaps, that is not the right wording.  It opened my heart.  I felt kindness drop down through me.  My heart feels so open like the pink cloud that just keeps hovering there, pink, now, dropping a bit to sit on the hill, then, rising again to deepen to coral.  

I see how few my needs.  I just want to hang on a tree of friends, then, flutter happily to the ground.  

Yesterday was my time with Zach.  He is three today, January 8th.   He runs now, and we were able to travel a long way from Blackie, the horse, along the bay, on the upper path to the playground, then, back right next to the birds on the bay, and the gazebo and we, of course, had to enter the magical trees.  We sat snuggled together in the gazebo, his hand on my leg.   Our travels took us past two restrooms which was great, because Zach now uses the toilet.   He was disappointed there were no children in the playground.  I pointed out it was cold, and I mean cold,  but he happily played and went on all the "big boy" stuff because he is a big boy now.   When someone would come, he would introduce himself, which didn't mean he always got a response. 

He knows I love a view, so he found a little hill, and he as Percy, the train, would run up it, and look out and say, "Look at this view," and then, he would run down, and I, as Thomas, the train, would do the same.   The moon was in the sky when we arrived but got more and more dominant as the sky darkened, and the sun was setting on the other side, huge and red and round between the clouds.  A helicopter flew by next to the moon.   A plane shot up like a red comet, lit by the sun.

When Zach goes inside the rounds of trees, his voice lowers.  He knows it is a magical place.  We saw the longest flatbed truck I have ever seen and we looked at every wheel.  We saw a back-hoe just sitting there.  He examines every part and explains about pistons to me.

I wonder when I look back at my life if those are the memories that matter, time spent wtih a little one as they meet and greet the world, received and receiving. 

I spoke to someone who tried to sell her home three years ago, when things around here sold in a minute.  Her house did not sell so she took it off the market.  If it had sold, she would have invested with Madoff.  She feels protected.  I think we all are.   The lessons may just seems skewed at times.

Perhaps patience and acceptance are my lessons for this day. 

Is life a pregnancy?  That would make death a birth.
- Florida Scott-Maxwell (1884-1979)

Some friends just watched their baby in the womb.  That technology was not available in my day.  It makes life in the womb even more clear.  We are tapping on receptive walls.  

Let us savor the warmth of our womb, the support.   We are billionettes!


Alexander Calder's Kitchen!

Life -

Zach, who is three today, informed me that he is afraid of Santa Claus, so Rudolph read the note and ate the cookies.

I thought how easily we can work with our fears.  I knew his eyes had gotten huge at the thought of Santa in his house.  Certainly, Rudolph is a much better guest.   I hope Rudolph is as well-trained on elimination as Zach.

Zach was concerned yesterday that a seagull has deposited quite a pile of poop at the top of the slide.  He checked and it was dry, but seemed quite puzzled at the lack of manners. 

There is so much we take for granted.  I explained that birds eliminate all the time so they can stay light to fly, but I could tell he was really unimpressed that the bird poop was on the slide and so it is.   It is a funny and lovely place we live!!


muir woods stream

through the forest -

if you move carefully
through the forest
like the ones
in the old stories
who could cross
a shimmering bed of dry leaves
without a sound,
you come
to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
that can make
or unmake
a life,
that have patiently
waited for you,
that have no right
to go away.
~ David Whyte ~
(Everything is Waiting for You)

muir woods

Oh, Yes!!!

I love the poems of Jane Hirshfield.  

The Supple Deer

The quiet opening
between fence strands
perhaps eighteen inches.

Antlers to hind hooves,
four feet off the ground,
the deer poured through it.

No tuft of the coarse white belly hair left behind.

I don’t know how a stag turns
into a stream, an arc of water.
I have never felt such accurate envy.

Not of the deer—

To be that porous, to have such largeness pass through me.

- Jane Hirshfield


Zach at the beach

Healing in Nature!


From an article by Richard Louv in Orion Magazine, January 2008.

Even without corroborating evidence or institutional help, many parents notice significant changes in their children’s stress levels and hyperactivity when they spend time outside. “My son is still on Ritalin, but he’s so much calmer in the outdoors that we’re seriously considering moving to the mountains,” one mother tells me. Could it simply be that he needs more physical activity? “No, he gets that, in sports,” she says. Similarly, the back page of an October issue of
San Francisco magazine displays a vivid photograph of a small boy, eyes wide with excitement and joy, leaping and running on a great expanse of California beach, storm clouds and towering waves behind him. A short article explains that the boy was hyperactive, he had been kicked out of his school, and his parents had not known what to do with him—but they had observed how nature engaged and soothed him. So for years they took their son to beaches, forests, dunes, and rivers to let nature do its work.

The photograph was taken in 1907.  The boy was Ansel Adams. 

oregon, willamette, 1 proxy falls

Peace -

Pema Chodrun defines peace as softening what is rigid in our hearts.

On May 2, 2000,
South Carolina governor Jim Hodges signed a bill to make Martin Luther King Jr.'s birthday an official state holiday. South Carolina is the last state to recognize the day as a paid holiday for all state employees. Prior to this, employees could choose between celebrating Martin Luther King Day or one of three confederate holidays.


egg stone

Nature -

Two Bears

    by Richard Beban

Peter Wolf told how the bear
entered his lodge as he lay
fevered with smallpox.  The animal sat,
back to the boy,
thick brown pelt smelling of
humus & pine, scratched
its huge furry breast.  "I did not know,"
Peter Wolf said, "if I was dreaming.
The bear left, returned, repeated
the same gesture.  When my father came
we talked & agreed, surely the bear
had mercy on me.  After that, I worshipped
the bear, & in the dance wore anklets
of bear's teeth."

The boy next door tells of the bear he saw
while grazing channel to channel.
It caught a salmon,
swiping its huge paw into the space between
the beer commercial & the crying family
on Oprah.  His mother took him to the
Disney Store, bought him a stuffed bear from
Just-So Stories, which sits with the other toys
in his closet.