I love this time of year, well, maybe, all times of year, but today I rise at 4 to meditate, light a candle, and pull out my shawls.  The temperature has dropped 25 degrees, and I feel comfy and cozy with my shoulders wrapped in wool.  There’s a grace to it, and my heart gives thanks for the gentle weight saying I’m here.

Years ago I read and found support on the subject of aging in Florida Scott Maxwell’s book, The Measure of My Days.  Yesterday I refreshed on these words from her book.  She wrote in her journal that she was quiet and serene in her 70’s, and in her 80’s became more passionate and intense.  Our new president is an elder.  May this be true for him, and all of us moving up the wisdom ladder.  I hold the sacredness of this journey as a candle in front of me, a light, as I honor the phases of the moon, and the movement of the earth around the sun, grateful for her tilt that gives us seasons, and inspiration for change.

  I was on a Zoom call election night where it was suggested that we mimic Dory in Finding Nemo, and instead of chanting “Keep Swimming!” chant “Keep Breathing.”  Notice your breath right now.  Maybe this will help.

Last night from 6:30 to 9:00, I was with the Upaya community on Zoom.  The idea was to report the numbers and celebrate, but the numbers were unclear and not what we expected.  Though the presidential race is still undecided as much as Trump tries to muddle that, the loss of the Senate is huge.

At one point someone quoted Norman Fischer: Our practice is to weep.  

I jotted down some notes, and have lost track of who said what but I’m with these words: How do we look deeply into the roots of suffering in our culture?

This country began by overriding the land and rights of the Native people.  We brought slavery here, and still torture these people.  Perhaps it’s time to atone.  

And then we’d return to the breath.  Over and over again, Roshi Joan Halifax brought us back to our breath, our body.  Notice the air we breathe.  We are breathing in the air of a digital universe.  Our opinions are reflected back to us.  Dopamine soars.  Now, we begin the practice of undoing the bias of the water we swim in.  

The wisdom of Rumi was read.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing

and rightdoing there is a field.

I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass

the world is too full to talk about.

The offering ended with these words. Speak truth to power. 

 It all boils down to Love, and developing the courage to not run away from all forms of suffering.  

Live with an open and soft front.  

My heart is tender today, wet with compassionate tears, compassion for us all, and how we meet now, and how we connect, and move and respond to what comes.

I mobilize now as I readjust to life as it is now.  What does this mean for me and my family?  Where do we roost now? 

Trump spoke of draining the swamp and instead we learned he was the swamp.  Today, our drains backed up and Roto Rooter arrived early, first one man, and now, two. They’re on the roof, under the house, in both bathrooms, and the garage. It’s quite a production. 

I’m hoping it’s symbolic.  Time to clean out what’s usually running unappreciated and unseen.  

As our pipes are cleaned out today, I’m grateful to know we’re removing blockages and moving toward flow.

As the Poet Joy Harjo wrote this morning, “Let truth be your walking stick.”   

We’ve been waiting for this day for four years.  I wake with the intention to stay and be calm, to nourish myself.  I’ll be with plants, walk by the marsh, eat comfort food.  I’m thinking it’s a day for chicken and mashed potatoes.  Maybe I’ll add some cranberry sauce in anticipation of a night of thanks.

So much is at stake.  I keep reading that poetry is the answer at a time like this.  Poems on Hope come my way.

Heather Cox Richardson keeps repeating in her column for today: Americans are voting in record numbers.

I’ve always voted, and I understand many had become disenchanted, felt the system was rigged, and that the two parties were the same.  We’re seeing clearly that the two parties are not the same, and also that every vote counts.

My heart is proud today, beating proudly, and as I nourish today, I trust that “good guys win”.

Emily Dickinson comforts me as I bring her words into the embodiment this day requires.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers –

That perches in the soul –

And sings the tune without the words –

And never stops – at all –

I’m offering as much time and space as possible right now to envisioning these words of Br. David Steindl-Rast.

Imagine a country whose citizens – maybe even its leaders – are brave, calm, and open towards each other; a country whose people realize that all human beings belong together as one family and must act accordingly; a country guided by Common Sense.

Today I was on a Sensory Awareness call led by Miren Salmeron in Spain.  She leads and guides us in opening to, accessing, and knowing The Living Treasure of Being.  

I’m with these words of Goethe: When the healthy nature of man works as a whole, when he feels himself in the world as though in a great, beautiful, worthy, and precious whole, when his harmonious sense of well-being imparts to him a pure, free delight, then the universe, if it could experience itself, would, as having achieved its goal, exults with joy and marvels at the pinnacle of its own becoming and being.

Miren began with inviting us to visualize the waves of the ocean, and I felt how yes, the waves are part of a whole, and then, they fall into sand or rock, all so alive and vibrant in transition and change.

I was centered in and filled with an image of white light and the words of William Blake came to me: “Colours are the wounds of light “. 

I thought of how in the United States, we are so divided into red and blue right now.  I want to come together as white light.

Today, November 1st, the veil between the living and the dead is said to be thin.  We can invite them in, those who’ve passed before us, and be calm and embraced in wider presence and reception.

Today I learned a supportive way to watch the election results on November 3rd. 

Check it out as it might be a healing and expansive way to embrace and release what comes. 

I woke thinking of a Foucault pendulum which swinging shows the rotation of the earth.  Pegs placed below it are knocked down as the earth turns.  I love to wait and watch for the fall.

This November morning, I’m aware of the earth’s turning, the rise of the full moon last night, and the need for balance and change.

It’s the Day of the Dead, Dios de los Muertos, a day to honor and celebrate those who’ve passed.

May the pendulum swing bring the changes we want to see as we honor the cycles of life and death.  

It’s a full blue moon tonight, which means the second full moon in October.  Nature is giving us extra treats.  Fall is continuing to give us beautiful, sunny days where I live perhaps to counter the political news.

Mirabai writes: 

I know a cure for sadness:

Let your hands touch something that

makes your eyes

smile.

That should be easy today as we light candles and find creative ways to offer candy to ghosts, goblins, and witches as they come by.

Even so, I’m with these words: The usefulness of a cup is in its emptiness.

I find myself setting extra intention to empty, and air the space in breath and head as so much pours in.  Perhaps it’s why we carve pumpkins this time of year.  I keep reading that writing haiku is a way to deal with the current stress, but perhaps a knife inserted into pumpkin flesh helps too.

The coyotes around here are howling with the moon.  Tonight, let’s all howl too!!   

My friend Elaine saw dolphins at Tennessee Valley yesterday.  Joy is everywhere.  

I’m still affected by the beauty in the film My Octopus Teacher, the learning and trust.  I’m floating on the magic of a kelp forest where the rhythm of the sea defines the lives of those twined there.  For us on land it is the rhythm of the air, the call of birds, and the wind blowing through us with each breath.  Do we receive and offer it like a kiss?

Roshi Joan Halifax: