Yesterday we enjoyed a birthday party for our grandson turning five. The theme was Pirates, and there was an array of young pirates at the party, a party of seventy people young and old. The youngest was a smiling, active eight month old, and the oldest, grandson’s great-grandmother, a spry 101.
I’m with the words of Joanna Macy:
The web of life both cradles us and calls us to weave it further.
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.”
I’m reading a friend’s book, Sara Bragin’s The Living in Her Dying. It’s about the time she spent with her mother as her mother was transitioning. It shows how much we need an advocate at such a time, and the learning that occurs when we show up to be with the loss of the womb in which we came.
The end of life process is with me these days as I feel the approach of a change over which I may not have control.
Last night I had one of those experiences that takes one out of their body and into awareness of so much more. My cat Tiger is getting older, and needing body warmth, comfort, and support sleeps snuggled in with us at night. When I got into bed last night, he came over with a look that lit the room, that was more than his huge eyes. I felt the gift of this livingness, this gift of being in a body for a time.
I was reminded of Thomas Merton’s words about being on a street corner, and …
He uses the word God. I might use the word Spirit or Light or Grace but the feeling and knowing, believing and honoring – that is the gift.
What’s happening in Ukraine is with us all. We are united in this. We feel the attacks; we share the fear and yet Tiger gave me such an invitation with his eyes, and way of being. I wake as light, flowing light, light that is both particle and wave as am I.
Steve and I were married 50 years ago tomorrow. Because of the pandemic we chose not to travel so we celebrated at Nick’s Cove and now tonight and tomorrow night we’ll be in Sausalito. 50 years seems unimaginable but it was 1971 and this is 2021. Gold.
And now our anniversary will always be a federal holiday. How gratifying it is to honor two momentous events.
50 years allows one to experience highs and lows and inbetween. May we all be well and happy, celebratory and appreciative of what comes our way, the seasons and tides our guides.
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