Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Contemplation

I’ve been immersing myself in meditation, specifically in Satipatthana meditation, with a current focus on the anatomy of the body, the parts, and the elements of the body, earth, water, fire, wind, and space.

I had blood drawn early this morning after fasting since yesterday afternoon.  It went easily and well, and when he finished, he asked me to write my whole name in cursive, then, print, and then write who I was signing for.  Since I was clearly the one whose blood had been taken and the one signing, I felt unclear on what to write, so I asked, “Do I write me?”  “You write self”, he said.  Self.  

My meditation is currently on not-self, no-self, not-me, no me.  Of course I know not to take it literally, so I can function in the real world, but somehow in that moment without my morning coffee, I felt the obvious as unclear.  

He’d just drawn beautiful red blood with its lovely qualities of fluidity and cohesion into two tubes, and labeled it as coming from me, and it will be analyzed to determine my health, so why did I struggle to consider the word “self” to document my experience.

That brings me to an Amy Poehler joke on aging. “My memory is like a cat. It doesn’t come when called.” 

Another piece of this was I could hear and feel his steady breathing as the blood flowed into the tubes, so I matched mine with his, and I threw in a little calm, as I knew he had a full day ahead of him, and I felt we were bonded in an act of intimacy for a time.

This act of meditating has me viewing life differently, and I see that as a good thing whether I’m me, this man, the lab, the rain when I walk outside and the ripening sky as day comes to light.

With gratitude, I listen and receive, honoring I’m, “constantly being re-created”.  

Brenda Ueland:

Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force. When we really

listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that

we never get tired of each other. We are constantly being re-created.”  

The creek rushing through Mill Valley, exuberant from all the rain.
A miniature Gravity Train planter outside Gravity Tavern

Posted on by Cathy Edgett · 1 Comment

Ripening Wisdom Shared

In connecting with friends this year, I’m honoring the words of Georgia O’Keefe. “To see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.”

I’m honoring that going through what I’ve accumulated in 70 years of living is a process of seeing, mindfulness, absorbing, reflecting, and choosing what I need now.  In this I feel a deepening in my relationship with my friends, a deeper, clearer look at how we grow and what we share.

Last night I saw Gary Snyder and Jane Hirshfield speak at the Mill Valley library.  300 people had registered and were let in first. Then, about fifty of us waited to see if there was room for us.  Those who had registered but arrived past the 6:45 cut-off time were demanding to be let in. There was intense energy at the front door as Angie Brennan, the head librarian, explained over and over again the rules of access. You would have thought we were trying to get into a rock concert.  Finally room was made for us all though some of us stood.

Jane Hirshfield spoke first, and was wonderful as always, but Gary was a little more of a rambler since I last saw him. He began with remembering back to when he was 7 and came to the MV Library.  He said it hadn’t changed. The beautiful structure, though reinforced, is intact. 

 He then rambled through the decades, sometimes off by one or two, but what’s the difference between the 1950’s and 60’s  when you’re going to be 90 in May. His history is fantastic, and listening to him, I saw why the mandala is such a lovely image for the self, especially as we expand on decades.  With maturity, we are spinning in a circle, never quite sure where the dial will land with what we want to share.

Be patient with we elders, I say to the young.  Our wisdom is run through a blender, and we’re in the process of pureeing the chunks.

Moss outside the library – lush with rain

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Simplicity

More and more I’m caught on simplicity.  Perhaps it’s simply overload. I sit entranced with my morning cup of coffee and all who were involved in its travel to me.  I listen to birds chirping in trees and see them building nests which they protect when I walk by.

I’m aware of climate change.  I check the tide table when I come and go, and yet, in this moment, looking out on green and gray and listening to birds singing, my heart is a beacon of trust, gratitude and the swelling trust in love.

Today I read Angeles Arrien on the Gold Gate we enter as we age. Tomorrow for my friend Elaine’s birthday celebration as she turns sixty, she’s requested we gather at Baker Beach and pick up trash, remove what doesn’t belong there on this beautiful beach.

We’ll look at the Golden Gate from the ocean side, and perhaps that’s what it is to age.  To look back and release what we no longer need so we can see more clearly the miracle of water meeting sand, both changing with the tides.

Elaine Chan-Scherer took this photo from Baker Beach and when we go tomorrow, it will be a different sort of day.