Has it been a month since I last posted?
I’m getting ready for Halloween these days. Claire wants to go as a wolf. I’ve decided to be a national park ranger. Did you know that you cannot purchase the badge (or the hat) unless you can prove you are an employee? So I’ve made my own. Not an exact replica, but pretty respectable!
God has come into my life. Now, don’t click away. Don’t let that word shut you down. I might not mean what you think I mean. It’s not a word I’ve used in my life for years. Stay with me while I meander through my story.
This is Smokey. He’s been around a long time. He was in the neighborhood when we moved into the house five years ago. He belongs to no one and everyone. For years, I would scratch behind his ears and say hello, and then I’d go on with my life. Someone fed him. Someone gave him shelter in bad weather. But he was just around, and I did not seek him, nor did he seek me. (Of course, my Stella cat was still with us until January 2014.)
In January, Smokey began hanging out in our back yard. He would sleep in our garden. He liked to pop bubbles with Claire. He starting sitting on my lap. He allows me to trim his nails. Even though we didn’t feed him, he stuck around. Last month, I began feeding him. I did this after he brought me a live bird he’d caught and delivered to my feet. So now he gets two meals a day.
I made him a little shelter when rainstorms came. But mostly, he likes to sleep on me or the mulch.
He was injured in early April, so I took him to a vet. He didn’t want to go, but once there he chilled in the exam room waiting for the doctor. I’ve never seen a cat so mellow at a vet’s office.
My husband is not open to having another pet, so for now, Smokey is not permitted in the house. He strides right in the front door some mornings, though, clearly telling us he wants to be ours. I usher him out.
The other day as I sat on my patio with Smokey on my lap, this thought arose: “Every afternoon, God takes a nap on my lap.”
Where did that come from? I don’t know, but it felt true and real. Last Saturday morning after I fed him, I reflected on the morning. And one sentence that came was, “I fed God breakfast, and now he has gone to stroll the neighborhood, looking after all the world.”
Oh my goodness. Yes. God sought me out. God has chosen me. God loves me, and I love God. This word — God — is loaded with so much history for me. It evokes vastly different meanings for people, and so I avoid using it. But this is what IS in my life. This cat. His arrival, his presence, is a call to sit and be quiet. An invitation to intimacy. I recognize God in my life. THIS is what it means to have a relationship with God!
Extending that metaphor, I experience God everywhere. In every person, animal, plant, and rock. God is everything and everywhere. God is found in acts of care, and God is found in simple being. My goodness! Now I get what namaste means! Yeah, yeah, I’d always known what it meant, but now I experience it in my being.
I have used many words to suggest what is divine in my life: Presence, the Mystery, Buddhamind, Spirit, Being, Ground of Being, Life, Chi, Love. They allude to what I mean; they can only suggest. Just as the a photo of the moon is not the moon, a word is not the thing it references. Something as multi-faceted as the Universe can be explored through science, math, literature, and art, but it cannot be totally integrated by the human mind. So we need shorthand, a word or a number, like X, to represent the holy mystery of All That Exists and our relationship with it. Lately, that “something” is the word God. So, God it is.
When I feel at loose ends, sometimes I pull this series of questions out and check in.
Outside my window the street sounds fade. Cool air settles on the grass and patio, bringing a gentleness with it. Distant yips and howls tell me the coyotes are roaming.
I am thinking about what I just heard on the news about the sardine population collapsing, which has prompted a halt on fishing season for them. Officials say over 90% of seal pups died this year because of starvation; they had no sardines to eat. I eat sardines often and feel both guilt and selfish concern about what this will do to price and availability. This news coincides with my having finished a book — captivating and dire — called The Sixth Extinction, by Elizabeth Kolbert. Human activity has triggered enough environmental change that we may be moving into a new epoch, from Holocene to Anthropocene.
I am thankful for ordinary life. My neighborhood cat-who-is-not-quite-my-cat whom I feed and pet; Claire’s marvelous and spirited self; social media connections; quietude; coffee, and books.
I am wearing black jeans and a black shirt, which is unusual for me, and it feels like too much of one color.
I am creating new connections in my brain now that I’m playing more with numbers. I’m also writing poetry, and making a little art.
I am hearing the hum of silence; my laptop hard drive, the refrigerator, a distant car motor, the high pitch of plugged-in electronics. It has a walled-in aspect to it, and is vastly less restful than the silence of camping outdoors.
I am remembering twenty years ago. My father recently sent me letters I’d written to him in 1995, after I moved to Austin. In these letters I talked about the growth of the Internet, and how that would create major change in the world. I was on a search for a new career, and very torn about my varied interests.
I am going to feel some regret in the morning for staying up this late.
I am reading poetry by Lucille Clifton and Gwendolyn Brooks, and I’m about to dive into a novel, The Diamond Lane.
I am hoping to motivate myself to clear my workspace so I can make some more collages.
On my mind is the fact that I’ve committed to co-leading the Project Cornerstone program at school next year, and I have many ideas as to how to increase community awareness and involvement with it.
Noticing that I’ve been avoiding exercise again, and indulging in more food, and forgoing tracking this.
Pondering these words: growth mindset and fixed mindset, coined by Carol Dweck.
One of my favorite things is snuggling in bed with Claire at the end of the day, singing a lullaby to her.
From the kitchen I’ve been cooking a variety of crockpot meals: chicken tortilla soup, pork roast, red beans, pot roast.
Around the house I’ve been culling items that get little use and trying to stanch the flow of paper that floods us weekly. I’m also still unpacking and sorting from the camping trip.
A few plans for the rest of the week: Friday will be an errand day. Saturday I have a SoulCollage® session from 9:30 a.m. – 1:30 p.m., after which I will take the car to get a smog test. Sunday is church, and then the Mighty Daring Girls will meet to make masks. Then I’ll roll into the next week with training at Project Cornerstone, taking Claire to choir practice, and all the usual routines of the school week.
Here is picture I am sharing of an ATC I recently made.
For Swap-bot, I joined a project that required writing a sestina.
According to the Academy of American Poets:
“The sestina follows a strict pattern of the repetition of the initial six end-words of the first stanza through the remaining five six-line stanzas, culminating in a three-line envoi. The lines may be of any length, though in its initial incarnation, the sestina followed a syllabic restriction. The form is as follows, where each numeral indicates the stanza position and the letters represent end-words:
ABCDEF
FAEBDC
CFDABE
ECBFAD
DEACFB
BDFECA
(envoi)(tercet) BE. DC. FA.
The envoi, a tercet, must contain two of the repeated words per line.”
So, here is what created itself within me.
The Dance
There I stood, waiting for the express
While pondering ways to renew
my flagging spirit, which struggled to climb
life’s mounting challenges, when I saw you, serene,
your hands moving in the air, a kind of dance —
the glorious joy on your face making you rich.
Gazing around, I noticed the world’s colors were rich.
In each person I sensed the soul’s desire to express,
to enter into the dance.
I felt that I could summon the energy to renew
and make myself serene
like an arbor trellis with those roses that climb.
To reach far, to stretch toward goals that require I climb —
this makes life worthwhile, and I feel rich.
In these moments, my heart beats serene.
I vibrate with life and tremble to express,
to evolve, to embrace impermanence and thus renew
life’s eternal dance.
So, which steps will we choose to dance?
Will it be the hustle, the two-step, the fandango climb?
Or maybe a slow waltz, to allow our breathing to renew
while rhythmically moving to the beat, slow and rich.
Perhaps we will lean in to share a kiss, to express
what tantalizes us as we attempt to appear serene.
We might do this under the silver light of the moon, serene
in the movement of the dance
and the people watching — their murmurs will express
how desire steeps, distills, intensifies, like the climb
of mercury trapped in a glass tube, the red rich
like blood, like the lungs give oxygen to renew.
And after we untwine ourselves, we turn within to renew
the relationship with the One who never leaves, the serene
companion who understands money does not make one rich;
nor does having it guarantee an invitation to the dance
and that life is often one painful, slogging climb
to an illusory summit that cannot contain all we express.
The koan: how to renew attention, surrender to the dance
or rest serene, no longer compelled to grasp or climb,
sitting in life’s rich mystery, waiting on emptiness to express.
–Kathryn Harper
This song by Hozier is gorgeous, poetic, and haunting to me. Take a listen (click here if the embed doesn’t work).
SoulCollage® Committee Suit: Feline Familiars
I am one who is soft and curvy, and I am one who is fierce. I am one who enjoys pleasure and will communicate. I am one who is a mystery. I am one who is subtle. And I am one who is primal.
What is your gift or message for me?
Remember to indulge in things that give you joy, comfort, and pleasure.
What do you want me to do?
Watch things. Take your head and eyes out of your computer and watch kitty television, which is watching the world. Be curious about everything around you.
Why did you show up today?
It’s been almost a year since Stella died. She was a good friend for 17 years and she is still with you.
If you have a shadow, what would it be? Or, what light do you offer?
The shadow is a tendency to laziness and to sneakiness. The light is the magnificent pleasure of being.
SoulCollage® Committee Suit: Our Lady of the Coffee
I am one who requires coffee. I am one who appreciates the daily ritual. I am one whose mind cannot function without a dose. I am one who is a mother and whose work is without end.
What is your gift or message for me?
That I am bottomless and endless and full of energy.
What do you want me to do?
Enjoy imbibing without guilt or concern. Go out more to coffee shops. I am not meant to be drunk alone all the time. Life is messy and it’s ok to spill, and sometimes art arises from what feels like a mistake.
Why did you show up today?
Because I’m ordinary and deeply integral to your life. And because you are feeling like hibernating and more tired because of the season.
If you have a shadow, what would it be? Or, what light do you offer?
The shadow is that drinking more coffee will not resolve your exhaustion if it is coming from other sources. The light is the pleasure of the ritual.
This ATC was created for a swap focusing on something in nature. At least one item in the card had to be from nature.
And a couple of haiku!
A sand dollar moon
peers heavenward, smiling to
her silver sister.
*****
Ocean origin
star within echoes secrets
hidden in apples.
–Kathryn Harper
SoulCollage® Committee Suit: Hot Tomato
I am one who is juicy and curvy and full of life. I am sweet and tangy. I am tempting. I am the dame they call a Hot Tomato.
What is your gift or message for me?
Be in the fullness of your body. Take up space. Tomatoes go with everything.
What do you want me to do?
Show yourself off to the world. Be proud of your abundance.
Why did you show up today?
Because you’re ripe.
If you have a shadow, what would it be? Or, what light do you offer?
The shadow is over-ripeness, fruit rotting on the vine. The light is celebration.
This video was played at church Sunday for the kids. While it seems sad, it provided a seed for discussion. We watched it again this morning. Claire’s thoughts about what the squid could do: “Stroke the boats, like a cat. Or find submarines to hang out with.” We talked about how you don’t have to possess someone to love her; if we hold too tight we hurt the person’s spirit and destroy the love. Being NEXT TO someone is not the same as being alone.
I am one who lives intimately with the roots of the earth. I am one who is hardy. I am one who moves deliberately. I am one who travels at the speed of eternity. I carry the earth and its Source in me.
I made a date with myself to go to Lori Krein Studios and play with collage today. It made me happy.
I’ve been working on uploading my SoulCollage® cards to share. You can find the link to them here.
I enjoy creating in so many ways. My friend L (mom of one of Claire’s friends) and I are developing an informal girl group. After spending many years driving to see friends (which we’ll continue doing) we want to create friendships and develop deeper connections in the neighborhood.
After careful consideration, we decided to forgo Girl Scouts for a number of reasons:
We plan to meet monthly. We have ideas of home-based activities to do; we also want to incorporate outings. For outings, each parent pays for her children and herself (if there are fees). To cover supplies for at-home activities, we suggest a nominal annual amount per child. We are researching the supplies and calculating costs.
While we want to have fun, we’re reaching beyond play dates. Our goal is to help our daughters become vibrant, confident, and engaged with the world. We want to nurture the development of their minds, souls, and bodies (and mother earth), and foster qualities such as integrity, curiosity, resiliency, and creativity. We are using several resources for ideas (adjusting for age with some activities):
A Mighty Girl
The Daring Book for Girls & The Double-Daring Book for Girls
What Do You Stand For? A Kids Guide to Building Character
So the girls and moms have a unifying element and develop a sense of belonging, we’re looking for inexpensive yellow t-shirts (a color that is sunny and gender-neutral). The quote we’re using is from Shakespeare: “Though she be but little, she is fierce.” That will be on the front, and on the back will be our group name: Mighty Daring Girls.
Our first meeting is March 2, and we have 8-9 girls interested!
I don’t know what else to title this post. Back in the early days of blogging, people started blogs as social interaction. If the blog had a steady readership, the author would feel a need to explain any gap in posting.
Then, other writers started to mock the self-importance of those posts. Who cares why you aren’t posting? Either do it or don’t.
So I tried to avoid that habit. And while this post may sound a bit like an explanation of why I haven’t posted (and maybe get picked up by Sorry I Haven’t Posted, which, um, hasn’t posted in three years), I’m also simply trying to break the mental tomb I seemed to have sealed myself into. Well, that suggests action. It’s more like mental rigor mortis.
When I first began blogging in 2002, I updated often and at length. I was engaged this way for many years. I also posted photos of my artwork and crafts, and my poetry. When my daughter was born, I wrote about my experiences with her.
And then Facebook came on the scene. Most of my social group (online and off) migrated to using that, and I started to as well. And when Claire turned four, I decided it was time to back off on writing publicly about her in detail, and that gutted my motivation to write. I’d still post about crafts we did, and other activities, but eventually I moved it all to Facebook.
In the past year, when I sit down to write here, I fumble. I grope for something to say. I might have a wisp of inspiration, yet some part of me whispers that it’s nothing new, it’s just more noise in the world. Why bother?
And yet. Writing is how I sort myself out. How have I become so disinterested in what’s going on? One voice in me says, “It’s all ego driven.” My practice is to engage fully in the moment, with the world I inhabit and the tasks I complete. I have made a judgment that to be Buddhist requires forsaking the mind. I’ve projected that judgment onto my teacher (not that I’ve told her). In my head, Maezen says this, even though she’s never uttered those words.
Another voice in me calls out, reminding me of other reasons to write. In childhood I felt a deep yearning to know more about my parents, about their childhood experiences, about what they thought of life and current events. Now, as a parent, I understand the difficulty of dredging up memories with specifics to make a good story. Claire often asks me, “Tell me a story about your childhood,” and I simply don’t have access to the memories. Writing is a pathway into them.
I’ve also a strong desire to be known, seen, heard since childhood. I want my child to know about me, if she is interested when she is older. So there is some value in writing. I’ve approached my blog as a kind of commonplace book, where one might read and see what piqued my interest. But as I read Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore, I am tantalized by the idea of a Codex Vitae. What is that, you ask? In the novel…
The Codex Vitae is something that special members of this fellowship “earn” the right to create, after rising up in the ranks. When written, it’s submitted to the fellowship, approved, and encrypted. 3 copies are made of the book, 1 goes to the central library, and 2 others go to branch libraries in other parts of the world. The key to the encryption is only given to 1 person, and it remains a secret until the writer’s death.
–Buster Benson, The Way of the Duck
He thought this was a great idea, and so do I. What if I created my own book of knowledge? A blog is a living book. And perhaps no one will read it, or only a few. My daughter might have no interest. After all, it’s a pretty large resource already, having existed for 12 years. In the end, I’ll die and this blog will go someday, but isn’t there some value in scribing my journey?
The truth is, I miss myself. For now, I will close with a poem that captures my hope:
Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved youall your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.–Derek Walcott
I want to give a nod to two long-term bloggers who in the past week have given me encouragement to try again (even if they don’t know it): Whiskey River and Euan Semple.
And a link to an article from a blog titled Thought Catalog about how and why to keep a commonplace book.
