Good Morning!!
Steve and I were married 35 years ago today, though it was a Saturday, so that is odd, or maybe not. Monday, a new beginning. We are gentle with this day, each a little time with our computers, and then, time together. I need this morning computer massage. That is my instigation. It seems many "special" restaurants are closed on Monday, so we will try The Melting Pot, a restaurant in an old brick kiln at Larkspur Landing. It feels like a good day to melt together by sharing fondue, one of our all-time favorite meals. We were married in the year of the fondue pot, and received two as gifts. I find it amazing that fondue is so firmly back, and grateful, too.
Jane and I went back into the beginning of January this morning. We were with bowls. I was feeling my bowl had broken open and my world was expanded, so much so that I was climbing out of the sea onto land on my stubby, soft legs. I am always so impressed with those first critters from the sea, pulling themselves out onto land. That is in our genes. (Not Bush's genes, of course, which is why he flounders so. He does not believe he came from the sea. He was molded and placed here, plopped from outer space.)
I bought a bowl last week, an empty bowl. I love the emptiness of it, the space, the womb. I love looking into it. I seem to be entranced with looking into bowls right now, with noticing their shape and how they hold the air. I am also entranced with color. The colors of this year seem extraordinarily appealing to me. I don't know if it is my noticing, or they are chosen this year to softly massage our psyches and eyes. I am with massage this morning, feeling deeply touched.
We spent a great deal of time yesterday watching Mandu breathe. He lay in the center of everything, our special blessing. This cat always knew who needed him most each day, and slept there. Now, he chooses to sleep alone in the chair. I woke in the night, and lay on the couch for awhile watching him sleep. I know he is teaching me how to breathe, and how, when it is my time, to leave.
He continues to look like it is his last day and then to revive. We are learning resilience from him, acceptance and peace.
May your teachers come today in gentle forms, as gentle, sweet, and dear, as the ever-wondrous, majestic, and hugely heart-filled CAT MANDU!!
Jane and I went back into the beginning of January this morning. We were with bowls. I was feeling my bowl had broken open and my world was expanded, so much so that I was climbing out of the sea onto land on my stubby, soft legs. I am always so impressed with those first critters from the sea, pulling themselves out onto land. That is in our genes. (Not Bush's genes, of course, which is why he flounders so. He does not believe he came from the sea. He was molded and placed here, plopped from outer space.)
I bought a bowl last week, an empty bowl. I love the emptiness of it, the space, the womb. I love looking into it. I seem to be entranced with looking into bowls right now, with noticing their shape and how they hold the air. I am also entranced with color. The colors of this year seem extraordinarily appealing to me. I don't know if it is my noticing, or they are chosen this year to softly massage our psyches and eyes. I am with massage this morning, feeling deeply touched.
We spent a great deal of time yesterday watching Mandu breathe. He lay in the center of everything, our special blessing. This cat always knew who needed him most each day, and slept there. Now, he chooses to sleep alone in the chair. I woke in the night, and lay on the couch for awhile watching him sleep. I know he is teaching me how to breathe, and how, when it is my time, to leave.
He continues to look like it is his last day and then to revive. We are learning resilience from him, acceptance and peace.
May your teachers come today in gentle forms, as gentle, sweet, and dear, as the ever-wondrous, majestic, and hugely heart-filled CAT MANDU!!