Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Resilience

A month ago I bought my grandson a book called That’s Good! That’s Bad by Margaret Cuyler and David Catrow.   It’s essentially the “Is That So?” story about the back and forth that happens in our world, and how we meet it.  It’s about perception.

Today we got a call from the physicians that our grandson needed to return to the hospital.  Obviously we united in what I might call “false cheer”.  “Oh, the tales that you’ll tell when you go back to school” etc.  Meanwhile I drove home in tears.  

But then we FaceTimed with him.  He was still in the ER as they waited for a room to open up for him.  He was hooked up to an IV and excited about all the machines.  He bounced up and down to show us how the machine showed his heart rate increasing and decreasing.  With sign language, he signed the whole alphabet for us, and showed us a drawing he did, and explained the complexity.  He shared how excited he is because he gets to go in an ambulance from one part of the hospital to another, and he gets to have an “overnight”.  

Talk about a lesson in perception.  I’ve spent the night in the hospital three times, twice for the birth of my children, and once for a lumpectomy.  I never greeted it as an “overnight”.  I’ve never been in an ambulance but I doubt I would have seen it as an adventure.  These last days dealing with the fear and sadness in the ups and downs of this with my grandson have been a huge lesson for me in how I might meet life now.  For one thing, all that matters is family, friends, connection, and perception.  Everything is so precious, every moment, exchange, breath. I’m precious too. Can I let myself feel that?

I still read the political news which is staggering, and yet surrounding that is the Love we share, the Love that is tangible and matters, and will carry us.  I don’t post photos of my grandchild but I have one here of him strapped in ready to go to the ambulance.  He has a huge grin on his face as he holds a small carton of milk. He’s wearing his Valkyries hat, and his Grinch pajamas because he loves Christmas so much he wears Christmas pajamas all year.  He’s my example of resilience, and how we meet what comes.  Life is an adventure.  Children show us the way. They give us Joy.

Living in the mist that unites tears and laughter in Receptivity, Resilience and Joy!
Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Embrace

Monday the power was out for many in the Bay area, so because we have a generator grandchild arrived in his Halloween skeleton pajamas.  No problem.  We went to Old Mill Park where he found a tree into which we both could climb, a tree with two rooms so we could separate our tasks into cooking and a tool shop.  At one point the tree became a pirate ship, and the wind came up so we needed to “batten down the hatches”.  

I sit with it now, climbing in and out of the opening in the tree , especially when the land below became the ocean into which we each went scuba diving to commune with squid.

After I’m with my grandchild living in the land and sea of his imagination, when he leaves, I miss him, and feel slightly dizzy as though my world is set to organize and his is in response to what he sees and creates. 

I’ve been to Old Mill Park innumerable times, and never realized the possibilities in this tree.  Maybe I never even discerned it as separate from the multitude of tall trees. When I go back by myself, will this tree still open itself to possibility? Will I feel silly climbing up into a tree to view the world from its open enclosure? Will I feel silly swimming in the sea grandchild saw below it?

We were there to view the rushing creek, exuberant with the rain. And yet, for him, in those moments, the invitation was from the tree. 

Thich Nhat Hanh:

The feeling that any task is a nuisance will soon disappear if it is done in mindfulness.

Immersion
Contemplation
Stirring the pot
A finer touch
The History
The creek and mill
The view of the creek when looking out through the tree
Exquisite what guides, lifts, and expands our paths

Posted on by Cathy Edgett

Spring

Yesterday I was with family, both four-legged and two, at Muir Beach and on the coastal trail between Muir Beach and Tennessee Valley. Some of us walked further than others, and we all indulged in these words of Vincent Van Gogh.

Don’t just look at the spring, touch it, taste it. Get it inside you.

Native Ceanothus in bloom
Iris offers a symphonic note
Hawk looks for lunch
An absorbing stroll along the path
Immersion loves a bridge
Looking south toward San Francisco to view the tucked Mooncow Bay
California Poppies
Cows once grazed here
Now people walk their dogs
Native grasses flourish
From the overlook