Fall Light – Gratitude
Smiling
Having two sons, over the years there have been various girlfriends, and an exchange of gifts, which as sons and girls moved on, those gifts were left here. One gift was a four foot tall creature, something well-known it seems in certain worlds, though not mine. I’ve been trying to give it away for years but finally had it sitting in the entryway to give to one person when a neighbor came by and fell in love. She left here holding it treasured in her arms. It was such an example of what we keep to ourselves rather than letting it circulate. It’s been sitting in our basement for years, obstructing energy flow and the new coming in, and now it’s carried to a new home in the arms of someone in love.
And again today I drive south to be with family, and check out homes. It’s my route of the moment, the immersion in change.
As I drive, I’m with these words of Shozan Jack Haubner, from “Consider the Seed”.
There’s a natural balance, a dance, between embracing and releasing: turning your surroundings into yourself, like the tree that absorbs carbon dioxide, and turning yourself into your surroundings, like the same tree releasing oxygen. This is what Buddhists call the Middle Way.
Ripples
This morning thoughts are with a friend. His wife of many years has Alzheimer’s. He’s trying to cope with loss and heartbreak and the stress of giving constant care.
What is this loss of memory? How do we handle so much pain?
Another friend is going through radiation. They have warm blankets.
I read these words:
What we do now echoes into eternity.
—Marcus Aurelius
Ripples circle from a rock thrown in the pond.
Integration
The fog is in today, a blanket enclosing a circulation of an ecosystem, our own, embodied in more.
Last night I learned of the passing of a friend. I am with the words of Rilke:
“Death is our friend precisely because it brings us into absolute and passionate presence with all that is here, that is natural, that is love.”
11-11-11
I pause to meditate and honor the Armistice, the end of WWI on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918.
Snow Globes
Like snow globes, shaken
We rise and come to land, ground
Peace in poppied hands
Veteran’s Day
Today we honor those who’ve served our country in the armed forces. My grandfather served in WWI. My father, uncle, and aunt served in WWII.
I honor and revere contribution, connection, and sacrifice. On this day, where I am, sun beams peace.
I round on this poem by Linda Hogan, “The Way In”.
The Way In
Sometimes the way to milk and honey is through the body.
Sometimes the way in is a song.
But there are three ways in the world: dangerous, wounding,
and beauty.
To enter stone, be water.
To rise through hard earth, be plant
desiring sunlight, believing in water.
To enter fire, be dry.
To enter life, be food.
~ Linda Hogan ~
(Rounding the Human Corners)
Centering
Today I’m reading about the heart in the womb, its formation and beginning to beat between four and five weeks.
I honor the music of the beating of heart, my heart, connecting the cells in my body, bathing and nourishing the cells in a rhythm of growth and possibility. I feel my roots in pelvis and feet, grounded on this planet we share. I’m touched by the tiniest branches into which blood reaches, invites, and cleanses.
I’ve been in the South Bay checking out areas, climates, houses, and now I’m home. It’s been raining and the smell of wood smoke fills the air. It’s like when we moved here 44 years ago. I feel nourished in my cells by moisture, gratitude, and growth.
At times, I feel overwhelmed with possibilities, and in this moment, I feel peace. My heart has been beating and supporting me for many years. I trust it knows what I need and what draws me forward as I meet what comes and comes.
Jiddu Kristhamurti:
If you begin to understand what you are without trying to change it, then what you are undergoes a transformation.
Anne Frank wrote during the Holocaust “Whoever is happy will make others happy.”
And so water sinks into soil.
The Veil Is Thin
This is the time of year when the veil between the living and the dead, the physical and the non-physical, is thin, though perhaps if we consider within us cells are constantly dividing and dying, this is always true, but it feels so much more clear with the increasing darkness, and here, for me today, rain. The hills return to green.
I’ve lit candles for this day, the honoring of those who’ve passed. I feel them gather in one embrace, gather close as I pause to honor expansion and embrace.
Today I read this short story by Stephen Crane, An Episode of War.
May it be a reminder of turning these darkening days toward compassion, connection, and peace.
https://americanliterature.com/author/stephen-crane/short-story/an-episode-of-war
Play
Joseph Brodsky wrote: An object makes infinity private.
Is that what I’m doing with my treasures? Making infinity private?
I bounce in the play.
Expansion
Today I notice so clearly what the early morning darkness does to my need to go within, to look around my home with new eyes. Yesterday our rugs were cleaned and a tree branch that fell in the storm cut into pieces and removed. Both allow me to see a little more clearly as the rugs, still drying, leave the space open and spacious. What do I put back? And more light comes through the space opened by the removal of branch and leaves. How now do I arrange my life in these next weeks of increasing darkness before the return to more light?
In that exploration, I read about the controversy over Toni Morrison’s book Beloved. I think back to reading Moby Dick in high school and Heart of Darkness. Did I understand the depths of what was being said? Probably not but surely I was affected and moved into the study of literature in college. I wanted to understand and experience more than what was tangible and directly evident in my life.
What is it to be threatened by what comes from “outside”? When my son was a freshman in high school, the first Gulf War began. His school and those he knew were against it but on-line he connected with people who were going there. He learned other viewpoints. I’m grateful for that.
I will re-read Beloved to sink into why it’s such a threat to some that it threatens a very important election in VA. When I wrote postcards urging Democrats to vote in this election, I didn’t realize how much was at stake. I can have compassion for those who so fear anything that might threaten what they’ve been taught to believe, and I can hope the ability to understand our relationships, responsibility, and perceptions expands with a Democratic win.
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