As a child growing up in Des Moines, Iowa, the afternoon and evening before May Day, we’d make baskets with handles out of construction paper, and fill the baskets with candy and flowers.  Early the next day, we’d hang them on the door knobs of our neighbors.  May Day!  

Now, today, we’re sheltered-in-place.  It’s beautiful where I live, and the birds are singing and the sun is shining.  I’m struck with synchronicity.  

Yesterday I started reading a memoir, One Blade of Grass by Henry Shukman.  I paused when I came to how his life was changed by Transcendental Meditation.  I remembered back to when I came to it in 1974.  I was newly pregnant with Jeff, and was told pregnancy is a time to be a peaceful haven for what’s happening inside, so I could meditate as much as I wanted, and I did.  I wasn’t confined to 20 minutes in the morning and 20 minutes at night.  I took my mantra and meditation to heart and immersed.  

For a long time though I’ve used other forms of meditation, but yesterday my 25 year old niece invited me to join a Transcendental Meditation group offered on-line. I was delighted.  It would be something we could share though she’s in Boston and I’m north of SF, and we don’t know when visits can happen again.  I don’t see a return to life as it was, and that honors evolution and change.

I’m with these words of D.H. Lawrence: There is nothing of me that is alone and absolute except my mind, and we shall find that the mind has no existence by itself, it is only the glitter of the sun on the surface of the waters.  

What a beautiful image and way to enter this first day in May.

And for a mind tease: Every C in Pacifc Ocean is pronounced differently.

Happy May Day, and circling around Maypoles within and without.

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