John O’Donohue:
I would love to live like a river flows, carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.
Living
Spring
I have to laugh when Trump says:“The cheating is rampant in our elections. It’s rampant. … They want to cheat. They have cheated. And their policy is so bad that the only way they can get elected is to cheat and we’re going to stop it.”
Who’s in office? Is he admitting he cheated to get there? That’s what I conclude.
To anchor myself amidst the lies, I’m reading Evelyn Underhill’s book Practical Mysticism. Written in 1914 to counteract the horror of World War I, she leads us within to nourish, and to bring forth the supple sensing that connects us with wonder and awe.
It’s raining here, inviting an invitation to ground and rise.
Fire Horse
This morning, we have lightning, thunder, wind, rain, and hail. Change is blowing in.
Robert Hubbell writes today that he and his wife attended a conservative Catholic church in Tennessee. About 15 minutes into a rules-based sermon, the priest said, “And now we must address the elephant in the room: The Epstein Files.”
The priest went on to condemn the administration for “redacting the names of the powerful men who abused children.” He then urged the parishioners to “call your representatives and Senators, tell them to release the Epstein files in unredacted form.”
We’ve learned from a text between Epstein and Bannon that the two of them were calling for the 25th Amendment to be applied to Trump in 2019 for incapacity. And yet, the money behind Trump has him still here, and this is the year he goes. It’s the Fire Horse year.
Fire and Snow
It’s the Chinese Lunar New Year, Year of the Fire Horse. The last two nights I’ve made a fire in the fireplace and lit candles, as I absorb the energy of this new year. The snake has molted and is ready to gallop with energy, clarity, and courage. 1966 was the last Fire Horse Year, and that was a powerful one too.
My grandson is at Tahoe with his family and a very perky puppy. It’s been snowing and is beautiful. I look at the photos and feel what it’s like to play with this new texture, to immerse as in water, to form flakes to come together as snowmen and snowwomen, and toss snowballs with glee. I remember my childhood, and all the years and give thanks for how water is liquid, solid, and gas, able to change like perception.
Morning in Sausalito
Respite
This morning at Stinson Beach.
Motion and Stillness
We didn’t have internet at our house for three days so I enjoyed going to our local libraries, and seeing how well-used they are. Community. I also had more time for meditation and reading. I see what a habit it is to come to the computer first-thing, and throughout the day, and feel the necessity to know the latest news. This morning as I read what the Trump administration continues to do, I feel like I’m going to vomit, so I’ll post this and return to reading a book I recommend: Can Poetry Save the Earth, A Field Guide to Nature Poems by John Felstiner.
What a contrast to the Trump administration dismantling environmental protections and reveling in the billion he got to do so.
From Felstiner’s book:
Motion and stillness, a changing constancy. “The early American painter Thomas Cole saw in waterfalls a “beautiful but apparently incongruous idea, of fixedness and motion – a single existence in which we perceive unceasing change and everlasting duration.” A poem, like a painting catches life for the ear or eye, stills what’s ongoing in human and nonhuman nature.
Richard Wilbur writes of windblown bedsheets on a clothesline, “moving / And staying like white water”.
Of course, for many, this may be an image from the past and so we unite in the stillness of memory as it waves in us like bedsheets on a line.
Love
I didn’t watch the Super Bowl, but this morning I watched the replay of the Half Time Show. Wow! So much was conveyed in the show: a wedding, love, the blackouts in Puerto Rico, giving his grammy to a five year old who represented and reminded us of the horror experienced by five year old Liam. Benito’s message is clear. The only thing more powerful than hate is love, and the majority of people are loving. We have a few who don’t understand the message, but most of us do.
Together, we are America. Together, we are one planet bound in love.
Black History Month
I was on a poetry/meditation call where a woman shared she envisioned this inner/outer world we share as a teabag immersed in a cup of water. She sees us immersed in an ocean of water and air flowing in and out.
The image is with me as I reflect back to 1976 when Republican President Gerald Ford officially recognized February 1 as the first day of Black History Month, a month to honor the accomplishments and contributions of Black people throughout our history.
Now, the Trump administration denies and stomps on that contribution. How does that affect us all, this denial of inner and outer flow? One can only feel compassion for a tragic group of people isolated and contracted in fear and hate. What a horrific way to live on a planet that teaches and shows us how to thrive in connection, generosity, reflection, and inner and outer flow.
Ataraxia
Though I don’t use Facebook these days, they send me memories which sometimes prompt me to look to see what I posted on this day in 2017, nine years ago.
I wrote: Last night the word of the day in my Toastmasters club was Ataraxia, which means “a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety”. Ataraxia is tranquility. On Wikipedia I learn that the word is a Greek term and was used to describe the ideal mental state for sending troops into battle. It seems the perfect word for these days.
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