Flow and Glow

Ebi and Ginger, two rescue greyhounds,  were with us on our trip to Palm Springs. There’s nothing like being greeted as though you are the most amazing person in the world even if it’s just that morning comes and you’re there.

On our return, our cat needed to go to the Cat Spa.  He’s older now and his fur mats in a way we can’t comb through so I sat and talked with a lovely woman as Tiger was outwardly pampered though he didn’t seem to recognize it, but then, he calmed and now he’s happy to be home and freshly groomed.

Life – 

My son attended a funeral on Thursday.  It was done in the traditional Chinese way.  He appreciated the ceremony, the ritual, and suggested he might want some of that when I go.  I’ve said I want simplicity, a scattering of ashes in nature, no ceremony at all.  He pointed out that I won’t be here, which is true, so this morning I’m with how to satisfy us both which even as I type this sounds ridiculous and I laugh both inside and out.  I’m tickled by this odd need to control even when I’m entering and merging with other streams.  

Ebi and Ginger
Tiger
View from the overlook at Joshua Tree

Honoring, Embraced

Can it be 17 years since my mother passed on this day?  It was 2005 so it must be.  I offer comfort to a friend who is grieving the loss of her husband three months ago.  Time may not heal pain but it does allow a more open embrace.

The morning sky to the east with the moon still a light to the west

Flow

Yesterday I was by the bay watching the tide go out changing the niches for the birds. Newly exposed mud offered new opportunities to feed.  It was like a poem unfolding new places to feed what we already know.

My daughter-in-law’s mother passed away early Friday morning.  She and her brother are dealing with the details and I am with how we meet death.  How do we rearrange ourselves for this matter to energy exchange, this cloak of the personal opening to the universal?  

Ramana Maharshi, was once asked, “How should we treat others?” He replied, “There are no others.”

I sink into knowing that.  

Romance by the bay
Opportunity and Search
Emergence

Flight

Retreat

It’s gray and wet today and I feel myself wrapped in a blanket of fullness, of knowing enough, as though not one more thing can enter.  Of course, that’s this moment.  Perhaps that acknowledgment brings change, or not.

I wonder what these early days in January ask of us, what we ask of them.  Years ago, I signed up for a yoga class with the intention to start the New Year “right”, but then the instructor spoke of this as a fallow time of year, and she kept the lights low, and we moved slowly and mainly rested on our mat.

I’m guided by these words of Rumi: 

“Let yourself be silently drawn by what you love. It will not lead you astray.”

I focus on the word retreat, and settle into the sound and meaning of the word treat, guided so gently by what I love. On the top of the mountain yesterday, I felt held, and focused on two hands, two eyes, two ears, two so we can hold both life and death as passage and guide. I wondered why the two words ears and tears are so close as though we listen more clearly when we allow liquid to flow out of containment into a wider world, a world we share with acknowledgment of love and care.

One son, his wife, and my grandchild have Covid. I feel fragile in knowing all we share, tender in trusting they will be fine, knowing again there is a separation over which there is no control, only letting go.

Heart-shaped abalone shell in the center of the labyrinth

The Sky This Morning

I looked up and though it was raining, there was a glow of rose everywhere.

I’m going up the mountain today to be spaciously aware with friends who are making the most challenging and difficult of health decisions right now. May we all be well and gently whole!

The Morning Sky

Space

What the pandemic has given us is increasing awareness of what we need, and much of that seems to be awareness of caring for ourselves and those we love.  

When I hear the word “space”, I think of Star Trek and exploration of the “final frontier”, but when we look within, there’s a beginning frontier to explore, one that appears to open out into a spaciousness in which to pause, renew, rest.

I’ve been with my journals from Nepal in 1993.  There was no safety net for the people, and yet those we met had their village, the support of their village.  At that time 50% of the children died before the age of five.  

I met a man, Donny, who was sick with worry over caring for his six children.  His corn was destroyed in the monsoon and he lost his thatched roof but he was proud that his sunflowers survived.

Yesterday, my son asked me about the “good old days”.  I spoke of my grandparents who lived through WWI and the depression, and then came WWII.  There’s always something to test us. 

We are here to see how we meet what comes, and I think of Kathmandu in 1993 where the leaves were swept with brooms, and the floors washed by kneeling.  The pace was both rapid and slow, noisy and quiet, and here we are, each of us, wrapped in a world that connects us all.

Tomorrow is a huge day for our country.   Democracy is both fragile and strong.

Yesterday I learned about The Robber’s Cave Experiment that was the inspiration for the book Lord of the Flies.

I read that nearly six decades later, experts have called the experiment unethical as it appears to have left  lasting mental damage on its subjects. I think as more and more comes out on the danger of what happened on January 6, 2021, each of us is shocked.

And yet on Christmas Day, the James Webb Space Telescope was launched.

According to NASA, “thousands of scientists, engineers and technicians” — from 306 universities, national labs and companies, primarily in the U.S., Canada and Europe — contributed “to design, build, test, integrate, launch and operate Webb.”

Smithsonian Magazine noted that “Webb will help scientists understand how early galaxies formed and grew, detect possible signatures of life on other planets, watch the birth of stars, study black holes from a different angle and likely discover unexpected truths.”

Wow!

May we more deeply and expansively unite in observing the space within us, as we explore and expand our knowledge of the space we share.

https://earthandskyimaging.com/?doing_wp_cron=1641404792.1273291110992431640625

Solstice

Tomorrow is the shortest day of the year.  I sink into the darkness, the touch of candlelight and the scent of pine and cedar.  Two squirrels chase around and up and down the redwood tree.  

The tilt of the earth’s axis gives us the seasons. It’s a time to honor and reflect. What comes to me now, and how open am I to receive?

Peace – dark – light – change 

Perception

This morning I’m with the beauty and wisdom in this Carol video, O Holy Darkness.

I remember taking a course in Child Psychology at UCLA when I was 18.  In 1968, we were propagandized that the “Communists” were programming their children. We had to fight back against that threat. Of course, our own propaganda was that we were the good guys and our children were allowed and given complete freedom and possibility in this “land of the free”.  

Angela Davis, an avowed Communist, came to teach and there was turmoil and concern. In order to work as a tour guide on campus, I had to sign that I was not a Communist.  I doubt I knew what that meant at the time. I knew my father believed in the Domino Theory and not wanting another World War II, he thought we were right to be in Vietnam.  He didn’t live long enough to learn the truth of that.

Now, we are trying to teach our children a more whole history.  Watch this beautiful movement into the embrace, the holy embrace, of wholeness.

Harvest

It’s a beautiful fall morning.  My father, born in 1921, would have been 100 today.  He died in an accident in 1969.  He was 47, the age my oldest son is now.  Time.  Trust.    Today I’m with James Wright’s beautiful poem “A Blessing”.  There are so many ways to step out of our bodies and into blossom.  

A Blessing
Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

~ James Wright ~

The tide moves in and out
And we Bloom