I’m reading a book called Lotus Girl by Helen Tworkov.  It’s a memoir that gives a history of Buddhism coming to the West.  Where I am now she is discussing the bardos with Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche.  She is adjusting to her aging process and realizes we go through some of the stages of being, adjusting to impermanence and change, the bardos, while alive. She’s in the “Bardo of Old Age”. 

When she asks Yongey Minyur Rinpoche about the bardos and tells him about George Saunders book, Lincoln in the Bardos, he asks, “What’s a Lincoln?”

Of course, one might answer a car but it shows how much we rely on what we consider “common knowledge” in our conversations.

Last night when I read Trump’s garbled and incoherent reply to a question on childcare, I felt sorry for a man who is being primed to run for president when he is clearly incapacitated.  I’m grateful Biden was persuaded to step down, and now when I read the words of a man who is off the rails, compassion swells.  Why is he being protected?  So he can be manipulated.   Elon Musk would essentially be our president if he were elected, Elon and other fascists.  

What is it to keep someone propped up for your own benefit?

Not acknowledging Trump’s deterioration is an inability to honor and see the cycles of life and death, the evolving transformation that connects the two.  I walk more slowly now, think more slowly, as I pause and connect the dots to flow and dissolve, and, in this,  I give my family time to see, and adjust, appreciate, and gather around impermanence and change.  I am a campfire, once ablaze, now softening to a glow for toasting marshmallows, turning softly and tenderly to ash.

I savor my rejuvenated garden.  The older plants are vibrant with new soil and mulch. They are teachers for the young ones now brought in. They are elders sharing their wisdom on seasons, impermanence, adaptation, and transformation. Grace!