Wrong...

What makes it so difficult to look at someone else's life with perspective?  It seems as though when someone reacts to some stimulus in their life, differently than perhaps "I" do, (and I mean the universal "I" here), I immediately make a judgment about that person as weak or "Loser" or "less than..." because they struggle in a different way.  Perhaps I am stronger in some ways, and it is in that very strength that compassion should blossom.  So perhaps in my judgment I become weak.

Does it all just sound like double talk?  Maybe it is.

Love each other.  That can be a near impossibility.  Sometimes the best I can manage is simply to keep my mouth shut, and not let loose a bunch of negativity or gossip or meaness.

I woke up feeling mean this morning, thinking of situations and people and mean spirited things to say.  I woke up angry is the deal.  So I try sitting with my anger and take care of it.  Not an easy task.  I try to listen to it, and it has on these boxing gloves that change size from time to time, and so when I ask what I can do, it says "take that..." and I wind up with the proverbial black eye.  That's the thing about anger.  It so often turns back on you, even when you're trying to do the right thing.  Maybe especially when you are.  I haven't quite learned how to float like a butterfly when it starts punching at me...making judgments of me, telling me I have it all wrong.  IT however, certainly knows how to sting like a bee!  Like a hornet's nest some days.  Telling me I'm wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong...all wrong and wrong again.

Peace dear ones.  And the best to you in dodging your own anger while trying to take care of it.

Slow Start

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Missing MD this morning, that helpful fellow, who made life easier this past week.  Sharing household chores makes them more doable somehow, enjoyable.

Driving over to the city of waterfalls, water was falling from the sky.  Intense, sheets of it, and even putting the windsheild wipers on high didn't clear the glass enough at times to be able to see clearly.  The rain eased up just a little at one point, we were sitting at a traffic light waiting, when we noticed a man and a little girl crossing the street.  What in the world was that they were holding on their heads?  MD and I burst into gales of laughter at the same moment.  Garbage can lids!  MD thought it was a practical solution to their dilemna.  I, on the other hand worried about the sanitary conditions under those lids.  But who knows.  Maybe the lids were brand new or cleaned out.

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Driving home from the city of waterfalls I found myself turning one of my "Cherish the Ladies" cds up high enough to drown out the loneliness and low enough not to leave permanent hearing loss.  Love those wild Irish songs where they all just about go mad, playing in 20 different directions with 3 or 4 instruments until you want to beg them to stop, you're so out of breath just listening to it.  I was listening to one of those when I pulled into the Lily Pad, a great place to stop for fruits and vegetables.  Getting out of my car I heard that familiar voice, adding the prices up, avocado, $1.50, $2.50, one quart of tomatoes $4.00.  $4.00 one quart of strawberries  8.00.  The voice was familiar.  I thought it was John, the owner of the Lily Pad, but no, it was in fact his son, who sounds so much like his father it's uncanny.  I used to make a trip over just to watch him add all that stuff up in his head so quickly.  A human calculator. This week the piles and piles of peaches, bananas, kirby cucumbers and tomatoes drew me.  Not a huge crowd for a Sunday afternoon, so I took my time wandering over the sawdust floors, admiring the geraniums.  When I finally got to John's son, who has grown into quite a nice looking young man, I watched to see if I could keep up with the calculations.  I managed this time.  $10.50 for a week's worth always thrills that thrifty part of me.  The quality is terrific.

I think I dreamt about John and his produce calculations...hearing them on and off through the night, perhaps wandering the stalls of the Lily Pad in my dreams.  When I woke up I laid there in bed reading, not really wanting to know how my leg was doing this morning.  Of course I couldn't stay there too long, as certain things needed tending to.  When I did stand up I found the pain was less.  The leg is healing.  Maybe I'll even do some exercises for it today, and tomorrow take Madeline for a long walk.

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Gratitude

The past several days I've been spending time with a friend for whom gratitude is as natural as breathing.  I am sure if I asked, MD would be honest with me about some of my shortcomings, but instead, I hear about how wonderful a person I am, how beautiful a place upstate New York is, what great food we're eating, what marvelous memories we're creating.  It's enough to put a saint to shame!

My memories of the past several days have included falling and twisting my knee, and having it so painful I hopped to the bathroom.  That's quite a feat for me.  So I laid on my bed while MD happily went out for a walk, possibly looking for a pharmacy and some stuff to bring down the swelling and ease the pain for me.  There wasn't a pharmacy open.  And MD got caught in the rain.  The poor guy came in, hair soaked and mangy looking, and at first glance it looked as though he'd gotten a new, snazzy shirt.  But on second glance, it was clear that it was simply about as rained upon as it could get.  I laughed.  He went off to his room to dry off and change, and the host came in to see how she could offer to help.  She thought of a glass of wine.  Ahhhh...perfect.  Pillows for propping my knee and  wine.  Which put me out like a light. 

Today I sent my friend back home, and I came back home this evening to be meowed at by cats, demanding their evening repast.  I just said:  "Complain, complain, complain...didn't you learn anything from MD?"  But then I didn't change my ways either.  I'm still moaning about my poor leg, and now my shoulder is added to the mix, because I've been using it to help me stand upright.  Poor Caris. 

Maybe someday I'll weigh in on the saintly side, instead of the curmudgeon side of things.  In the meantime, maybe I'll have a glass of wine and get a good night's sleep.  It won't get to be a habit, I promise! 

Pentecost

In the Christian Church year, today is Pentecost.  When I was involved in church, it was always one of my favorite celebrations.  It's fun

Lacking Inspiration

Fear Not....Right

Here I am at the service station this morning, after having gotten pulled over last night. One of my headlights isn't working. I don't know about you, but getting stopped by the police is right up there with root canals in my list of fears. And it doesn't really make sense. I always follow the rules. I knew I hadn't been speeding or making an illegal turn, and even if I had, then I would have paid the ticket and gone on my way. Instead my hands shake, my heart pounds and I have this strange need to suddenly clean up the back seat...as though he's making a housekeeping check. Of course doing that looks suspicious...like I'm trying to cover something up. Could I have something illegal there? Like an open bottle of liquor, or a stash of drugs, or, or, or.... Nothing of the sort. I rarely drink, and won't even have half a glass of wine if I'm driving. Drugs scare the heck out of me, and the doctor has to get me in a headlock to take any medications. I hate taking drugs of any sort. I pay my taxes. I have never in my life done harm to another man, woman or child in any way, shape or form, except perhaps my younger sister in one of our “disagreements” at ages 7 and 4. So what is the big deal?

It's the old PTSD stuff and authority figures. Major problems.

It's why I have trouble staying at a job. And I say staying, because my work is never in question. I'm conscientious. I am enthusiastic and take pride in doing a job well. I most often get along pretty well with people. But people are people, and usually, after a certain period of time passes, something will happen. Someone will abuse their power in some way, and that feels impossible to stick around for, or even try to work through. I tell myself I'm not helpless anymore. But the fear gets the best of me.

Pema Chodron tells a wonderful story about a warrior who has to defeat fear, and learns that what she has to do is not to do what he says to do. Even though he is huge and scary looking and he will get right in her face, the way to win the battle is simply not to act on the fear, even if he has her convinced. That can be a pretty tough order. That can even be an impossible thing for some folks.

Pema Chodron showed up in one of my dreams. It was strange. She would just appear, sitting on a bench with other people. I'd look again and she would be gone. I suppose the wisdom of her teachings is having an impact on my life. And that is a good thing. So a Buddhist nun is showing up in my dreams. I wish she'd stick around long enough that I could speak to her. Of course knowing me, I would probably be too shy to say the right thing, or ask the right question. But I'm usually a bit bolder in my dreams. Anything is possible in that strange land.

“Be Not Afraid.” That's always the time to sit up and pay attention when some angel shows up announcing something important in scripture. Of course it seems a little ridiculous to say that to some poor, bewildered human being who doesn't know what the heck is going on with all the light effects, and hosts of angels singing “Glory....” And besides that, even the most visionary of prophets never gets more than a glimpse of the bigger picture. And the people that angels appear to, and Jesus gets involved with, are just plain, ordinary people like you and me. “Be Not Afraid” just doesn't feel like quite the right greeting. A plain old “Hello, I'm an angel, and no, you are not schizophrenic or psychotic. You're just an ordinary person who is part of a bigger story, and I need to tell you something important. So listen up. Yes, I know you are so scared you're afraid you're going to pee your pants, but I promise, you're going to get through this. I'm here to help.”

That would be a bit more down to earth. But then, angels aren't particularly down to earth most of the time.

Fear Not my friend. Traffic tickets, police lights and sirens; tornados and floods and loss and trouble are part of a bigger picture. There is help about. Angels in disguise. And who knows but a Buddhist nun might show up in your dreams to calm you down, slow you down, make you think. And you too could find yourself typing a blog in a service station.

And what would be the point of that you say? Well...I don't know. I can't see the bigger picture.

Hot Weather

I am already sweating this morning...of course I've been out for a brisk walk with the dog at 6:30, so that may account for some of it.  But most of it is this hot, humid stuff.  My joints ache, and I am so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open most of the day.  This is the hardest time of the year for me in upstate New York.  Complain, complain, complain.  Where does it get us?  No place fast. 

So instead, I will think about the first fireflies I saw last night.  Just two.  and they weren't under the apple tree, where I usually see dozens. They were over by the lilac tree.  Soon enough the others will come and have a community dance out there in the back yard. 

This morning I was reading Pema Chodron again, and I appreciated the teaching.  We walk along in the ocean and a big wave comes and knocks us down.  We get up and we keep walking.  Even after water up our nose and sand in our face.  And after a while the waves will seem smaller.  That's what karma is like.  Is it karma?  Or is it just the way life is?  I find it hard to get my mind around the idea that we have payback for everything we do.  That children suffer because of something they've done in another lifetime. 

I guess for me, grace and forgiveness is my favorite thing about the Jesus road.  We walk along in the ocean and a big wave comes along and knocks us down.  This is life.  And life is full of suffering and difficulty.  We get back up and keep walking, even after we get water up our nose and sand in our face.  Continuing to walk is perhaps the sacrifice we talk about.  It is continuing to live and to give to others as best we can.  And if we keep walking each time we get knocked down, the waves sometimes get smaller.  Or maybe we learn to ride the waves.

We don't get to live in some happy, blissful Hollywood movie.  We struggle.  And that's ok.  But there is some joy mixed in with all the hard stuff.  There are surprises every day, if we keep our eyes open to them!  If we stay present to the moment, even the moments we get knocked down, we find the gifts in it all.  There are gifts, even in the suffering, and somehow it transforms into something else.  That is, if we allow ourselves the suffering.

Somehow in our society we get this idea that we're supposed to be happy all the time, upbeat and cheerful.  And it's really great to be around those kind of folks.  They get the popularity prizes lots of the time.  To be honest however, I enjoy the folks who are real.  Honest about their feelings.  People who try to find the treasures in the hard things, without being "perky" every moment of every day.  They are the treasures in this world.  But so often we're seeking out the popular folks...the happy people, that we miss the deeper gifts someone who knows and has experienced suffering can bring..

So the hot weather is not my favorite time of year, and I spend more time getting knocked down than I do on my feet.  But there are fireflies, and so many flowers that love the hot sun.  And lots of people like this time of year best of all.