Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Complexity

I read about Ken Burn’s offering on the American Revolution, a look at the complexity that led to the formation of the United States. Part of the motivation was a want and desire to expand beyond the Appalachians. I’m reading The Gift of Rain by Tan Twan Eng.  The book begins in 1939, in Penang, and looks at the circumstances that led to WWII in Asia, so focuses on Malaysia, China, and Japan.

We teach children simplicity, good and bad, and that’s necessary at first, like teaching how to get along in society, but then, we mature and learn the complexity of relationship, complexity in ourselves.  We learn to navigate, move, and integrate the pieces we are.

Right now, the United States is divided by those who gain personally in division.  We need to expose our shadow, to look openly at our history and in exposing, embrace a history that is complex. Hiding or denying doesn’t help us now.

In looking at the whole more clearly, we further honor the planet we share.

Branching, discarding, and transforming in the Fall
Sacred Heart
Mushrooms sprout in the rain in our yard
Mr and Mrs Mallard and an egret in the Corte Madera marsh

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Autumn Light

Trees become bare as spider webs form revealing new lines intersecting, augmenting, and defining space.   

Reflecting on this year, I realize four friends lost their husbands, and another lost his wife.  They were in my age range so it brings impermanence even more deeply into awareness.  The gift of breathing dips in and expands out.  I’m gratefully here with leaves changing as camellia and iris bloom.

Br. David Steindel-Rast:

In the continuous flow of blessing our heart finds meaning and rest.

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Reflecting

In meditation today I think of my ancestors, all the way back to Neanderthal and Cro Magnon and before.  Each month is sacred, but I, one son, and my grandson were born in this month, so, for me, there is an extra preciousness.  Leaves change color and fall, and I recognize we are moving  toward November when the veil between the living and the dead is thin. 

Today, eyes slightly open, I saw the oak tree outside the window shaking. First one squirrel and then another, and another were running up and down shaking the branches of the tree like a wild and crazy breeze.  Then, they’d pause to eat an acorn, then scurry along.

I was reminded of a poem from my childhood from The Book House.  

Whisky, Frisky

Whisky, frisky,

Hippity hop.

Up he goes

To the tree top!

Whirly, twirly,

‘Round and ’round.

Down he scampers

To the ground.

Furly, curly,

What a tail!

Tall as a feather,

Broad as a sail.

Where’s his supper?

In a shell.

Snappy, cracky,

Out it fell.

Pumpkin Patch

What’s real?