Gracias

I am blogging an excerpt from today's journal on Oct. 13th 2010.
I am writing with the green ink of gladness in celebration of the so far succesful rescue of 27 of the 32 Chilean miners and one Bolivian who have been trapped for 69 days 2000 ft. deep in the earth. The event has drawn over 2000 journalists from all over the world and millions of people are following the progress of the rescue.We live with so much bad news and tragedy that it is a joy to witness something so positive, so revealing of the endurance of the human spirit and the power of love.
The effort made by so many - from the engineers who conceived of the rescue plan to the drillers who carried it out, the designers of the rescue capsule, the medical people, the President of the country and the support of the government - all of it has been amazing.
I just by luck last night turned to CNN just as the first miner was coming to the surface. Most memeorable for me was the face of his 7 year old son - sobbing uncontrollably in an agony of pain and joy.
The N.Y. Times is giving an hour by hour feed on Facebook on the progress of the rescue. I read a lot of it this a.m. Impressive is the fact that there are so many expressions of gratitude from the rescued men. No one is coming out of the capsule with self centered complaints. To be confined 2000 ft. underground for 17 days with no contact with the outside world - no idea if they would die there and then after contact to have to remain there for another 52 days. Such a tribute to the human spirit, to the appreciation of the strength of community which is the need to work together. And now to see them emerging from the darkness to the light is so redemptive. The lost being found. Amazing grace.
I am having a sort of retreat week. I feel very inner focused and going forth has no appeal. As anxiety and constriction began to manifest this morning I decided to look beneath it and to face what it was a substitute for. What I experienced was that deep searing grief that I have for the "lost". In the relative level of life grief for how easily Jordan disposed of me. But this quickly morphed into the pain of how lost he is. And this connected me to the grief of my own lostness and the lostness of others - the pain, the agony that St. Teresa refers to when we realize that we are not living the life we live - we are not home. I allowed myself to be present to that agony. And today it has been balanced by the joy of the redeemed miners. Here is LOVE coming back for everything. Somewhere Silence is speaking. Gracias!!! Gracias!!! Gracias!!!

Still On The Conveyor Belt

One of the images I have about mortality is that of a conveyor belt moving steadily towards eternity. We all have our place on the belt and at some point we arrive at the stepping off spot.

When we are relatively young there are so many people in line ahead of us we hardly ever think of our spot unless someone our age somehow shockingly steps off way ahead of expectations.

Not being in a hurry to step off and enjoying life on the belt I used to take comfort in knowing how many of my older relatives were up ahead of me. As I am entering my 84th year I realize that I may be a lot closer to my spot than I like, and then again who knows? Like the young person who stepped off way ahead of expectations I may surprise people and stay on the belt way, way beyond my "sell by" date.

So much for mortality for now. As I was going through the routines of the morning; cleaning my hearing aids, taking my blood pressure, meditating, journalling, making the bed and getting dressed I was aware that most of these routines are not exciting or stimulating in any way. That granted I shifted my focus to the fact that I was priveleged to be alive and doing them. They did not have to give me anything; I had only to perform them with awareness and move on to the next thing. Yes, I have preferences. I enjoy eating my breakfast more than I enjoying making the bed. I look forward to reading e-mails, various articles about subjects of interest and the latest news.

A huge preference in my life is following sports. Anyone who knows me well knows of my devotion to golf. They know that Phil Mickelson is my favorite player and that I have never been a fan of Tiger Woods. They would also know that I am delighted to be approaching the opening of the football season. I have watched a couple of the Cardinal's pre-season games. Pleased last night to see them win even if against the hapless Bears who are the new Cardinals of old.

Another source of pleasure and gratification in my time on the belt are books. I like owning books. Michael and I found we have that in common. We like the energy and companionship of books. Holding them, arranging them, enjoying the memories of the ones read and anticipating the pleasure ahead in those yet to be opened.

Because of the economy's effect on my budget I am not only buying bargain books but I am re-reading which is something I have never been inclined to do. If a long time has passed since first reading a book I can enjoy it as for the first time. My memory is emotion centered and I will remember how much I liked or did not like a book while not remembering the plot or the ending.

What fun it was this week to be able to go to Amazon's Marketplace books and find Marth's vendor name MOLE'S END BOOKS! And exciting to hear how she had sold her first book within a week.

A place I can always count on for enjoyment is the movies. I love going to the movies. No DVR or Netflix experiences for me. Settling into my seat with buttered popcorn ( in the middle and on the top) in hand, the lights going down, the murmur of the crowd stilled, promising myself that I won't chat up my companion (especially Marth) I am infused with magic. I am in thrall over possibilities, I am the joy of the movie industry - a real fan.

I have been attending movies weekly ever since childhood. We were expected even as young children to help out at home. We had our specific chores which were mostly performed on Saturday morning. When done to my mother's standards we were given our movie money as pay and off we were to the land of Saturday serials and double features. We walked both ways, perhaps two miles round trip and on at least one occasion we so enjoyed one of the movies that we stayed to see it again. This brought us out of the theater after dark. It also brought us a whack on the backside upon arriving home for having caused mumma so much anxiety.

Another contributor to the pleasures of riding the belt would be gardening. Again from childhood gardening was not only a big factor in my life but it was a way to connect to my parents neither of whom, like most people of their time, were emotionally expressive. Sharing activities is a way to bond even when noone says how they feel about the sharing. Today while trying to economize the one place I don't economize is in the creation of as much beauty in my yard as I can conceive.

The last place that enhances the ride is music. As for many people that I know certain kinds of music bring near bliss, intense joy, sometimes tears. And music provided a strong connection with my dad. He was a classical music fan and I loved to play such music for him on the piano when he asked. I can recall in high school laying on the floor beside our record player with my ear to the screen, volume at the top awaiting the opening wail of the clarinet as Rhapsody in Blue blasted into the living room. Followed immediately by my mother's voice from the kitchen TURN THAT DOWN!!! The last breath of life for my dad as he lay dying was atuned to classical music coming from the ever present radio at his side.

And I should not say that that is the last because actually I have saved the best for the last. What would the ride be without the people who are on it with me? My remarkable children who are so admired, appreciated and loved and their childdren. My dear friends, even people I don't know well or at all who I know through the computer, the TV, the movies.

And so this morning I am appreciating the ride - the routines that just are and the pleasures that balance the ever present suffering of the world: joy with grief, forgiveness with anger, peace with anxiety. I plan to buy more tickets, especially E tickets, and stay on and on and on.........

Question Mark

I wanted to write something today because I sense I am to write and I continue to neglect doing it. I don't know what I want to write which explains the question mark of the title.
Mary gave me a lesson when I was staying with her recently in San Jose in how to add images to my blog posts. We were going to write the steps down as I learn better visually than through listening but we did not. I have been experimenting in an attempt to add a picture. I am able to line up my blog, the picture, and the formatting instructions on my blog. I can see them sitting before me in a tantalizing row and I cannot move the picture/image that I chose - a confused looking, colorful question mark ,onto this post. It is a goal to learn how to do it and to put appropriate images onto all of my previous blogs.
I love seeing the images that both Mary and especially Jen, who is our most present blogger have used with their blogs. Jen's recent question mark inspired me and I have loved her hammer over the scale photo.
I am happy to be back from my stay at Mary's and I was happy being there. They are a very loving and gracious family. I did learn from the experience that it is still important to me to be the captain of my own ship. It is an important part of aging to have some responsibilities, something to take care of plus enough interests in life to want to get up every morning. I have a strong work ethic inherited from my parents. They also left me with a sane attitude about the uses of money including an ethic about not living above one's income. Further I was inculcated with a sense of caring about and being informed about the larger community. My parents were very aware of and interested in the events and politics of the nation. I was born into our large Irish clan and community was an integral part of life. We were taught tolerance, that there was a basic equality particularly an equality of opportunity that was a right. We were not stupid - we saw differences in people but were encouraged to not see ourselves as higher or lower than those around us. Values such as these have stood the test of time and I have gratitude for them and hope to have witnessed them for my own children and grandchildren.
Two natures seem to dwell side by side in me. I am very social and love other people's stories. I have said that I am a person who likes going to other people's children's recitals - to look at the photos that are meaningful to them. I enjoy being out in the world among the energy manifested especially at night through lights and music. There is something intriguing about listening to the murmur of a crowd, seeing the animated faces, smiling without knowing why.
My other nature seeks and appreciates solitude. I contentedly spend hours alone enjoying the beauty that I am constantly creating around me. I have written before of watching a breeze moving the trees, the setting sun lighting a fire in a hundred roses, the stillness or busyness of my small graceful pool, the strange exotic light of a coming storm - any number of images that solitude makes room for. I read, meditate, reflect and sense the silence that is more than the absence of noise.
Physically my world can be and is very small. But in solitude I find myself impelled to go beyond the smallness of the egoic world that is inside me. It often feels confining, like a trap or being in a cage. Yet desiring to leave I don't fully, even with the door open.
I am being lived as one aging through these two natures and their inclinations. Having just celebrated my 83rd birthday I am grateful for the privelege of having had such an extended journey.
I had no idea what was to be said today. Having had so many years of experiences it is delightful to be surprised still by oneself. For now the question mark may be at rest.

Silent Sunday

I am noticing the past few months that LIFE has been pulling me away from my usual routines. It is my custom upon awakening, after peeing and combing my hair, to clean my hearing aids and take my blood pressure. Now,instead, I will find myself finishing the book I had to close at midnight or sitting at the computer reading e-mail or harvesting a crop on Farmville. I could never relate to people who were still in their nightclothes at 2 in the afternoon. Now I have become one of them.
I don't plan these changes. They just show up. I look down my shirt (or nightgown) and ask myself "Who is this that is behaving so unlike me!?"
Another thing of which I am aware is how drawn I am of late to solitude. Silence, stillness have always had an appeal. I will usually choose them over even music which gives me such joy.
I moved into this house three years ago in April. The morning I awoke after the first night in the house I looked out over the back yard;the trees, the flowers, the quiet water of the pool and the first word that came to mind was SERENE.
Phil has recently pruned the overgrown greenery above the back wall. Instead of just a mass of green we can now see the trunks of the trees with sky glinting among the leaves. Shadows have appeared suggesting secrets. The impression is that of looking into a glade, perhaps even a sanctuary.
As I reflected quietly on the scene images began to appear from a long ago trip to a Benedictine monastery in Germany. I am high on a hill overlooking the monastery farm nestled below in a copse of trees, the view sweeping away across miles and miles of neat patches of farmland dotted with red-roofed farmhouses and barns, the cattle appearing like toys in a child's play set - the sounds distant and muted; the soft lowing of the cows, a triumphant rooster crow, the hum of a tractor. Then I am lying on my back in the prickly grass beneath a cherry tree pulling the cherries off from the branches above, the firm red fruit warm with the sun and bursting with juice - exploring the honey house where the waxy cones are being processed by the monks, the air alive with the thrum of bees working the nearby hives in the service of their queen and of their intincts - kneeling by a pond tucked under the kindness of shade and dipping out a handful of wee tadpoles, wet and wriggly and cold against my palm - awe that these tiny beings were destined to become huge, fat bullfrogs with big croaky voices - like acorns that become mighty oaks or miniscule egg and sperm that become us!
This silent Sunday morning I am once again surveying the back yard. I see pots of color; orange, pink, purple and blue. I see the arbor above the waterfall frosted with the new green of the wisteria vine, the bright yellow spill of Texas Yellow Bells on the rear wall, the fig making its' way neat and tight as it reaches sideways across the stucco, the Queens Wreath with heart shaped leaves and flowers a cascade of pink, flinging its' elfin tendrils out above the pool beneath, the pool itself nearly still but for a barely imperceptible shimmer as it is kissed by a small breeze. Except for the occasional bark of a dog or the cuh-cuh-coo of the mourning dove it is so still I can barely hear the hum of my computer. It is as though the images outside are also inside and I am infused with the stillness of nature.
Lest you think that I have become a 'monkess' lost in a cloister I will leave you with one more scene. There are 3.4 seconds left in the fourth game between the Lakers and the Suns. I am bent forward on the purple chaise in front of the TV, fists clenched, tensed expectantly, heart pumping madly, hoping, hoping........ Kobe shoots and misses! But the rebound is tipped in. Lakers win. Suns lose. I am SCREAMING!!!!!
Love you all.

Here is poem from 1983. I was Lis' age!! It is about seeing.

Observation

With shadows settling on the shoulders of my room,
I pause to examine this quiet afternoon.

Traffics' muted sounds on Seventh Street,
My cat who walks on velvet padded feet.

Late sun splashes on dusty trees.
The drone of passing planes and bees.

The pool, a shadow-darkened blue.
The patterned pansy's purple hue.

With ears that hear and eyes that see.
I'm glad that I'm observant me.

So What's Happening?

Since I wrote a reflective blog yesterday I am going to please Jen and write a newsy one today.
Today is Jordan's 76th birthday and I am expecting him here in half an hour. I am taking him to dinner and to see the movie The Secret in their Eyes which Phil thought excellent. I don't see a lot of Jordan anymore. I don't think he has stayed overnight here in months. And that is fine with me.
Tomorrow morning Phil comes to work in the yard. We recently put in two bougainvillea on the wall bordering the driveway to complement three flowering vines that we planted last year. The colors there are fuchsia and white and I may plant clumps of white and fuchsia vinca at the base of the vines.
I am disappointed over the lack of sun in my back yard. The Lady Banksia rose did not even bloom that we have on the arbor. The sprays of green look lovely but I miss the flowers. Phil has been modifying the watering system and we have waited until he finished to go get the rest of the summer flowers. I will just do the minimum because I plan to be gone most of July.
Also tomorrow I am taking Mary and Alex Keenan to lunch at The Olive and the Ivy which is right around the corner from me at The Waterfront. They have hosted me so many times that I felt I had to stretch my budget and treat them back. They have tons more money than I do. For instance I spend $4000. - $6000. on vacation while they spend $50,000.!!!
On Friday I have a hair appt. Thank God as I am at the old lady witch stage and will be so glad to get my hair cut and curled. Then I will go to Marth's house for dinner and to spend the evening with her and Sara. They usually get together on Fridays and watch old movies.
I find that I am tiring of Farmville and will probably quit it before I go on vacation. It takes a lot of time and I have about run out of ideas about arranging the property. I feel drawn once more towards writing and I could also profit by using the time for more exercise.
I am missing the Suns/Lakers game tonight but if we play like we did on Monday it is just as well. I kept waiting for OUR SUNS to show up and they never did. The Lakers played their best and we played badly - just couldn't get baskets. I can get up a good hate for Kobe Bryant too.
Many of my shows are winding down. NCIS has it's finale next week as does Idol. Project Runway, Amazing Race and Survivor are done. Dance is coming soon and it is a great favorite.
It will be interesting to see what I do to fill in the empty time slots.
Had my cleaning girls here today and groceries delivered in the midst of their work - a bit hectic. Getting three weeks worth of product put away is a bit of a chore but even with my handicaps I can still manage. I am so grateful to be able to be so independent. When I think of my brother and sister dying at 61 and 63 respectively I am so fortunate to not only be alive but to be managing my own home.
Vacation is coming closer and closer. And the way time flies it will be here before I know it. I am going up to San Jose on July 12th and stay with Mary for two weeks before going down with her and Lis to meet Sara, Marth and Ame for a week's stay in a beach house. Then I will go back to San Jose with the girls for another week. I will be away from home for a month. Phil and Joan will stay in my house. I always find myself reluctant to leave home. But as soon as the plane lifts off the ground I leave it all behind. And the time away, the change of environment is invariably renewing.
I have been waiting for some books that I have on order: The Last Station and the 3rd in the Steig Larson trilogy. In the meantime I have been enjoying some Mary Stewart's that Marth has lent me. I read her years and years ago and had forgotten how good she is. Just reread My Brother Michael, Wildfire at Midnight and am starting Airs Above the Ground. She had also lent me The Children's Blizzard, a harrowning documentary style tale of a violent winter storm in the midwest of the 1800's. Despite all of the new technology nothing takes the place of books in my life. I truly reverence them and love owning so many.
As Porky Pig would say "That's all, folks.!!"

Nothing Special

As soon as that title popped up in my head I thought of Joko and her book by that title. Again the paradox is there as what she is teaching is that although nothing is special, everything is special. How much less stressful my life and everyone else's would be if we could truly live that reality.
Think of how we go from day to day with our " I want this and I don't want that. I want it just this way and not that way. I don't want him or her to get it because I want it." And on and on and on.
And I am not saying that what we are doing is wrong. Because as human beings it is how we are wired from the day we began to sense that we are a self. It follows that this 'self' must be defended, protected from all those other 'selves' out there with their own endless list of want and don't wants.
As a way of knowing this 'self' that we have created we can practice taking an honest look ,moment by moment, at what is actually happening, what we are doing, thinking, feeling, sensing, intuiting. The Twelve Step programs call this taking our inventory. Zen practice calls it emptying the false self (that is the one that we have created). The emptying is the process of paying such close attention that what is not conscious becomes conscious and thus evaporates.
I had a bout of this kind of unconsciousness coming to the surface over the weekend. I fell into an intense desire for romance and companionship. I have been involved with what I call the MAN thing for as long as I can remember. I have done Twelve Step programs, Zen practice, various types of therapy including Gestalt, Bioenergetics and Jungian dream analysis. From time to time I sense that the MAN thing for me is pretty emptied. And then WOW up comes all this pain, longing, yearning, tears. After so many years I should not be surprised. It is not as though it hasn't happened before.
So I let it wash through me. Wrote once more to a guy who had already indicated no interest. E-mailed an old flame that I had let go of. I just watched myself do these things without judgment.
No harm was coming to anyone as a result of my behavior. It was important to look at and experience these feelings. In this way they got out of the prison I had them in and thus were free.
In twenty four hours the storm was over. The pain left - no more yearning.
We have all these buried places like stuff long stored and locked in attics and basements. They are filled with energies wanting to be owned, to be brought up to the light of day. Until they are they cause mischief. Energy has to move and when imprisoned it moves in a distorted manner which we call neuroses. Painful though it might be to open these dark and shadowed places there is a payoff for facing all of our life, not just the parts of which we approve.
I am sure my attic and basement are not empty. But I am peaceful and relieved to have at least freed one more hidden clutch of energy this weekend.

Little Bits of This and That

I am just beginning to come out of my latest health problem which has been a bout of bursitis in the right hip. I am still having some pain walking but am very much improved from what I have been enduring the last two weeks. I am grateful because Lis arrived yesterday for her week long stay with me. I was actually able to be on my feet enough to cook dinner for us - nothing fancy but good taste and nutritious and we sat at the table and had cloth napkins.

We had a grand time last night watching the Suns beat the Spurs in game one of the second round of the playoffs.

We had a quiet morning - I did not see her until noon. Then we had a two hour conversation about Adya's teachings which was very stimulating. She is presently out shopping with Marth who came by after school. They are shopping for Amy's birthday.

Ame will have a pajama party here on her birthday - Friday. I had taken from her that she did not want a lot of fuss so thought we would probably have take out and a birthday cake and presents. But Lis likes to do things up in a big way and has offered to cook and decorate. This is all fine with me as long as I don't have to do more than appreciate it. Just don't have the physical energy for it.

I realized in pondering my preparations for her stay that my fatigue from the pain had eroded some of my planning energy. I did not ask her what types of food or drink she would like me to have in the house (I always do that for guests). It did not even cross my mind. She is an avid coffee drinker and I don't even have a coffee maker!

But I did change all the bed and bath linen and put out fresh kleenix and soap. And put a mint on the pillow. I realized that I had shifted from the over the top person that I used to be. I myself have given lots of fancy parties requiring lots of time and effort. That is just not where I am anymore. So I will benefit as will everyone else from her energy. She is a great party giver and a great cook and tremendously creative.

Saturday night we will go out to dinner with Jordan and a new friend of his from the Mankind group. This guy is a very talented poet and a singer who does professional gigs around the Valley. Taking account of how bright and interesting Lis is the dinner table conversation should be quite stimulating.

Thursday afternoon I am hosting Lis, Danny, Christy and Jen for tea. Lis might want to jazz that up a bit too. Tea for me is just tea and conversation. Then the five of us will go over to Julio's and join a large portion of the family for dinner. This is Jen's party and a way to see a lot of family without making individual plans. There are just too many of us for that. It gets very tiring.

There is great golf on this weekend starting on Thursday. I see no time for golf on Thursday but Friday Lis will go shopping again with Sara and maybe I can catch up and watch some of Friday as well. Saturday I should fit a bit in and maybe Sunday night.

As Sunday is Mother's Day Lis wants to make a nice breakfast and have Marth join us. Because my mother has died and Marth is the only daughter not a mother she and I have traditionally spent some time together on Mother's Day. Also Mike and family have come out to visit the past couple of years. About the only time I see them except for the major holidays. I always enjoy them and suggest we get together more often but it just does not happen.

We also have more basketball to fit in as the Suns play again on Wednesday night and then sometime on the weekend.

I will post some of Raymondo's poetry some time - the fellow we will have dinner with on Saturday. I think he has a lot of talent.

I am not presently doing any writing except for journaling and I don't even do that on a daily basis which used to be my habit.

Lis was questioning in our talk why some people are so stuck in their conditioning and others are able to get free and blossom. As I have pondered her question what comes up for me is simply that that is what is happening. We don't question why is the color blue, blue. It just is.

LIFE manifests in an infinite variety of ways. When we are limited to the egoic view of things they are right and wrong, good and bad, satisfying or unsatisfying etc. Getting outside of the egoic view things just are. Moment by moment - this, and this, and this.

We have been going down birthday alley for some time. We had Sara on Valentine's day followed by Jane, Marth, Lis, Flynn, Sharon, Connor, Max, Danny and we have coming up on the 7th Amy's 5oth. After Jordan on the 19th we have no one until late July.

Seamless

I am on my fourth day of the flu. It is not a severe case but I have been taking very good care of myself. Due to the pain level I have been living at for the last 8 months (and not taking any pain meds) I have been very tired. I am using this period of having the flu to get a good rest before going back to my normal routine. I am also not spending a lot of time in bed because I have a cough and congested chest and do not want to invite pneumonia. The computer is being a great resource of entertainment and brain sharpening and creativity. I have once more reorganized my space in Farmville (creative) and have played some Bookworm Adventure games (brain sharpeners).
This morning as I was getting out of bed I glanced down at my leg. It appeared to have a seam running straight down the center of the front. In my nightgown with bedhead I felt like an old floppy doll (but one very much akin to the Velveteen Rabbit (very timely image). My mind then jumped back to my college days during WWll when we wore nylon stockings with seams down the back. One fashion obligation was to keep one's seams straight. And so on to more thoughts about seams.
I pondered how it is that 'seamlessly' is used in a positive manner. For me the meaning is that whatever one is attempting it is more valued if it just flows - no effort, no stops and starts (seams then needed to hold it together). No question that this feels wonderful when it happens but it does not seem to be how we humans function very much of the time. Our attempt's
are filled with starts and stops, struggles, successes and failures. Lots of seams.
My 'seams' this morning seemed to reflect exactly that - a sort of map of exploration, discovery, ups and downs - far from seamlessly.
And wrinkles are sort of like seams. As we lose elasticity and oils we begin to shrivel and make what look like lots of little seams. Many in our culture get these 'seams' erased through plastic surgery. I have tried to honor the aging process by allowing it to happen. I want my face to reflect my own hands and not the hands of someone thirty five or even fifty-five. I want my aging process to be seamless while still manifesting seams. Paradox. It is where we always find the good stuff.
I will leave you the reader to meditate on your own 'seams'. Bless them - they are your LIFE.
Just some random thoughts - like Jen's blog today - on a serene and beautiful Tuesday in Scottsdale AZ.

Reflections on family

I grew up in a small town heavily populated with relatives. My neighborhood was composed of my grandfather's house, our house and the houses of my mother's brother's and sister: Dave, Donnie, Dick and Margie. My Uncle Charlie lived in town but not in our neighborhood. My Uncles Orrin and Billy died in their twenties as did my Aunt Anna. Uncle Connie played minor league baseball and travelled with the team. As a result of all this proximity I played daily with anywhere from 12 - 15 first cousins
I so enjoyed this sense of belonging in community that I always aspired to have several children. I recall that in High School I would write down the name of my current boyfriend and then my name if married to him and then number and name at least six children. I so thoroughly enjoyed my rural upbringing that at one point my dream life was to marry a very handsome boyfriend who planned to become a country doctor. We would have a large family, live on a farm and raise our own food and animals. What a far cry from the corporate wife life that I actually did lead!
But, I got my large family.
And it is about them I find myself reflecting today. Yesterday was Lisa's fifty-sixth birthday and she was very much on my mind. We talked recently and made plans for her to come for an extended visit before the hot weather.
Yesterday I had a lovely day celebrating Martha's birthday which was on Feb. 28th this year. She is a leap year child and was technically turning 13.5 years old. We headed out for The Farm for lunch only to discover it closed. Not to be daunted in our pursuit of a good time and good food we went on to the Bluewater Grill Seafood Restaurant on Camelback and 8th St. The food was as good as any I have had in many years of eating out in the Valley. We shared ecstatically silly grins as we savored our way through a great lunch. Then on to Berridge's nursery where the sensory delights were further gratified by the gorgeous array of Spring flowers.
Late today I will be enjoying Amy's company. She is coming by to have dinner with me and to watch American Idol. We will have a simple meal as with my pain level I don't spend too much time on my feet. We will have frozen turkey dinners and a fresh salad of tomatoes, carrots, celery, onion, avacado and walnuts with a choice of dressing. I had made a breadpudding over the weekend and that will be dessert with a dollop of black cherry jam and some whipped cream. She was here on Saturday for a couple of hours. We toured my garden, she put some photos on the computer for me and we played some Farmville.
I have been wanting to see a sports medicine doctor for my knee and Michael helped me get on the inside track because as a Brophy team coach he knows Chris White who is Brophy's sports manager. Chris is a personal friend of Dr. Michael Lee. Dr. Lee is the team doctor for the Cardinals and the Diamondbacks and specializes in knees. He also volunteers as the sports medicine doctor for Brophy teams. He is a Brophy grad and this is his way of giving back. Going through the front office I had been turned down as they aren't taking any new Medicare patients. So I hope I have luck using networking. I really appreciate my Michael's help.
This Friday I will see Christy who is the widow of Johnnie my oldest son. We plan to go out to eat in some nice place where we can have a leisurely meal and catch up. We often do movies together but this week prefer to visit.
Next week I will go to Amy's son Connor's performance in Grease . I will go with Danny who as many of you know lives out in jabip. I enjoy his company so much and we keep up on the phone regulary.
I was so delighted the other day to see a video introducing her new business that Mary has made. She comes across as so knowledgeable, grounded, clear, warm and welcoming. I think she is headed for stardom!
Although we mostly communicate via computer I love following the interesting life of Sara as she travels the country installing a software program that saves her company tons of money. And I admire her energy as she travels regularly to NAU to share her children's lives. Lastly I find the manner in which she manifests her creativity astounding.
Because I came from a generation that saw the men out working in the world and the women manning the home fires I raised my daughters to be able to take care of themselves financially.
I did not learn to do that and I am in awe of how well my daughters have succeeded in providing for themselves.
And so today I find myself graced and grateful that I followed through with my dream and grew my very own special community.

Will include my usual piece of poetry today. This was written in memory of my Uncle Pete. He was married to my Aunt Margie, lived next door to me until I married at twenty and moved away. He was like a second father.

Uncle Pete Remembered

A sweet man with the clean, shiny face of a child
who spent a lfetime, in the old-fashioned way
doing the same task in the crayon factory.
And a lifetime, in the old-fashioned way
of marriage to Marg.

Coloring inside the lines of
work
fatherhood
what it was to be a
husband
friend
and neighbor.

And there was time for me, though niece,
the daughter that he never had.
On school nights I'd slip next door to visit -
Aunt Marg ironing,
Uncle Pete sitting at the kitchen table
pipe smoke drifting to the ceiling.
The kitchen warm with good smells of
dinner just cleared away.
And they'd ask to hear about my day -
my life always a kind of drama,
they, captivated audience.

Many years later I visited them in Florida
in a cheerful, sunlit mobile home
flag flapping on a pole outside the
kitchen window,
bird feeders nourishing a host of
flying friends.
Pete now part deaf, part blind
and crippled from bone disease.
But still that sweet, clean shiny face of
a child.
The same joy in seeing me again.

A last visit at the nursing home
in Maine.
Luncheon out and a stop at my cousin's home
nearby.
Pete's mind now much confused - not always knowing
who we were.
Marg frail, herself not far from death.
Still from both the welcoming embrace
the interest in my life,
the sharing of theirs.

Never intimate but in their own way
loving.
Like second parents who healed a lot of hurts.
Making of family a holy word.

Thank you all for being who you are - holy.

Something Wants to Be Expressed

I have been moved to blog for several days now but have not put anything on paper. I make notes on ideas and images that seem to have a poem in them. I will say to myself "There is a poem here." I came across some scribblings to that effect in a note book I keep for that purpose - a place to put the random stuff that shows up. Here is what is bubbling in the stew pot.

On Poetry

How is it that most modern poetry has freed itself from form?
Prose displays itself in patterns. It comes to us wearing the clothes of poetry.
Where is rhyme, music, rhythm?
What to do with this?
It is not about a poem per se but is more a curiosity about how poetry has changed.
What comes up is how much I like change. At first I find I am missing what used to be but I quickly move into the excitement over possibilities - what is yet to come.
And all the while reminding myself that there is really nothing outside this very moment.

Stuff coming up about illusion.

Pretending


You sit on the bank
and watch the swimmers
in the river.
"Come in, they cry to you
but you just watch in silence.
"Just put your toe in!" one demands.
Still you don't move.
You want them to pretend with you
that you are swimming too.
"See me splashing", you say.
Look at how I can kick."
But now they have gone
downstream.
Soon-
out of sight.
You sit there on the bank
waiting for more swimmers
to appear.
To help you keep
pretending.

Perhaps a poem is here in what follows-

The rain is painting my adobe wall
with a tentative brush -
Faint lines appear
sliding hesitantly towards
the garden below.
Is it holding back the storm
or simply waiting for it?

Another attempt at the poem about Martha
realizing how the desert is church.

Martha in the Desert.

Beneath a pale early moon
like a pain dimmed soul
She is
walking, walking, walking.

Ravaged by the pain,
Savaged by loneliness,
raging at God.

Spirit out ahead in a
ceaseless wind.
Calling, calling-


"Follow me."

Can't stop for the
purple lupin stain,
the amber gold sunset,
can't stop to feel the
wind
or the wink of
the first star.
Can't stop.,
Can't stop.

Follow.
follow,
follow.

Being with the pain.
Being the pain.
Driven by the pain.
Running from the pain.

Moving,
moving,
moving.

Enjoying this quiet grey Saturday afternoon. I am TIVOing golf to watch later. I don't like to watch every stroke so when I TIVO I can then pick and choose what I want to see.
Just finished five days back on my eating and exercise program. Will relax over the weekend and eat a bit more and then back at it on Monday. I am very close to the 140's which I have not seen in 20 years. Jen and Phil are my inspiration. He has lost 15 pounds and is doing an intense exercise program and she is absolutely amazing!
I watched the ladies medal skate last night and was very moved by their various stories. I have not been that caught up in the Olympics this time around. I think you have to watch almost everything to get to know the athletes and their sport. Just dipping in here and there does not do it for me. And I have other shows that have priority so don't have the time, or don't choose to spend my time watching hours and hours of Olympics.
I bought Bookworm Adventures and am having great fun with it. It offers a variety of games. I like the word games the best and although I have never liked the pressure of timed games I am playing them and getting better at thinking under pressure.
I have found a sports medicine doctor and will make an appointment for some time in April. His name is Michael Lee. He is the doctor for the Diamondbacks and the AZ Cardinals. He is also a Brophy grad and is the volunteer sports doctor for Brophy teams. I imagine Mike knows him or of him.
I have ordered some new books. I have been without a read for a couple of weeks. I am trying to economize in all areas of my budget. I mean to investigate the book swap that Mary does online but have not as yet done that. I do love owning books. I have my library pretty well organized but have more work to do on it. And I need to cull books out that I don't care to own and donate them to the visiting nurses sale.
Will finish up today with another poem of mine - one of the ones I consider finished.

Rainbow: Here and Not Here

Dylan, Martha's finch,
a bright, feathered rainbow,
has been my house guest
now a week.
Lighting up my winter
darkened dining room
with his cheery presence.

While greeting him this morning
I spied another rainbow
nestled in a corner of the fireplace.
Just a piece, it was, mostly purple
with a splash of blue and green,
tucked there for a moment
while the sun stopped to visit with
a crystal hanging in my window.

Its' visit, transient, like Dylan's
not to be grasped or clung to
Like all our life, a temporary gift,
now here, and then not here.

Love you all,
Jeannie

Extemporaneous

I had no idea that I knew how to spell that word! And I have no idea what I am going to say in this post. I got up much earlier than usual this morning. At seven instead of eight or nine. It has given me such a nice work day and I have done a lot of different things. I meditated, had a nice breakfast, read one of Adya's poems from My Secret is Silence, read some news, played Farmville and one of my Bookworm Adventure games. For those who enjoyed Bookworm this new version is a lot of fun. I did some dead heading and pruning in my garden. It is time to cut the roses way back - a prickly job at best.
Phil came at eight - my reason for getting up early. We have been organizing the garage and are almost finished. What a difference. I have lots of cupboards and we have been able to put things out of sight that were lying about on the floor in a clutter. And organizing always means I can now retrieve things -no point in having them if you can't find them. He has put up on the walls a series of boards with hooks so that all of our tools are hanging in plain sight - no more trying to pull the hoe out from behind seven other tools.
He is also working on elevating the garden area behind the waterfall so that we can plant things that will spill down over the boulders. And he has put soil in between boulders and we have plants peeking out and spilling down as in a rock garden. In the same area we have the new arbor and will be planting a wisteria come Spring and some other vine that does not require a lot of sun as the area is on the shady side.
I have managed forty minutes on my bike so far today - again a benefit of getting up earlier. And I watched a half hour of the Pebble Beach golf. My favorite golfer as most of you know is Phil Mickelson. So far in two tournaments he has not played his best golf - coming in nineteenth and forty fifth. And today he is not on the front page of the leader board which does not bode well. He plays his best golf on the golf courses of the west. So far not so good.
I will be going out late today with Christy. Our plan is to go over to Remington's and have appetizers and a drink for dinner while listening to music in the lounge. I am hoping I can prop my leg up somewhere as I cannot at present sit with my knee bent. No bar stool for me for sure.
Amy and Connor and I had a fun Sunday watching the SuperBowl. She made some pigs in a blanket - delicious crust, and some delicious hamburg sliders. We had cookies and Cracker Jacks for dessert.
Connor had become enchanted with the novella Flatland written in the 1800's. It is a social satire of Victorian mores, especially on the status of women and on the British class system. But more importantly it introduces the idea of other dimensions than those that we know. He had printed it up off the internet and had me take it home to read. I did this in the next two evenings and then as is my wont I looked it up on the internet. Turns out there are at least six sequels. I had suggested to him that since he was so excited about it he try writing a third chapter (the book has two chapters). He wasn't sure he wanted to tackle that. And there are films as well and a reading list of books dealing with the idea of other dimensions. Exciting for me was how this all dove-tailed with Adya's teachings which can be seen as being about the fourth dimension. i read an interesting paper on just that. -
Lis had touted a mystery writer who would be new to me for some time. She finally gave me two of his books for my birthday. The writer is James Lee Burke and he is the finest mystery writer i have read - right up there with P.D. James but for entirely different reasons. He is the Michael Ondaatje of mystery writers in that he is fundamentally a poet. His descriptions of place are exquisitely done. After reading the first two books I bought two more and am delighted that he is very prolificic and I have many reading treats ahead.
I will leave you today with a poem - one of mine-

THE WOUND

Is there a woman without the Wound?
That never mattering enough
to father,
to husband.
to lover.

Shrinking daily from the blows
of not good enough.
Yearning for tenderness,
for touch,
for cherishment.

Learning as the years go by
to hug the pain close
as an old, worn coat,
more familiar than joy.

Love you all,
Jeannie

Different Gifts

I had a rocky night with an unhappy stomach and discovered more of the same upon awakening. I have had a quiet day so far and have eaten only enough to keep my glucose levels from falling too low. The condition of my stomach is in stark contrast to the gorgeous day outside. I had hoped to do some transplanting today but am not sure I will have the energy.
My house plants have thrived in this house. There are lots of big, wide windows and the light is excellent for growing things. At present the pots are burgeoning and greenery is overflowing to the point of 'we have to do something about this'. I have two plants with the potential to be indoor trees and they are calling out for more space. I may go to the nursery on Thursday with Phil and not only purchase more plants but also some new pots. I will need some pretty big pots for the wanna be trees and it will be great to have Phil to carry them.
I watched an interesting Iron Chef yesterday. There were 2 pairs of chefs who met Mrs. Obama in the White House vegetable garden. Vegetables from the garden were the secret ingredient that the chefs were to use in the competition. The garden must be cared for by experts in addition to the school children who work on it as the vegetables were magnificent. It was suggested that those of us in the audience could also plant and harvest our own vegetables even in small spaces. My handicap in the yard that I have relative to growing vegetables is that I don't have a lot of sun. It is one of the few disappointments I have about this property. My southern boundary is bordered by trees and shrubs going from 25' to maybe as high as 50' and very little sun is let in until early afternoon. But whatever the obstacles, I am inspired once again to try some vegetables. I did have a vegetable garden at the Alta Hacienda house that some of you knew but it too suffered from not enough sunlight.
Growing one's own vegetable garden inevitably makes me think of my son Johnnie who was such a gifted enthusiast about gardening. My parents were great gardeners - flowers and edibles, and I always loved the link from them to me to him. It is a beautiful energy to share especially now that Johnnie and my parents have died. The joy of the garden remains and keeps us connected. Your image, Jen, of joy as a tree comes to mind - stunning image. I so appreciate your sharing it.
And I marvel at your many techie talents. Such fun to see your Vlog. I don't know how to do so many of the techie things but I so enjoy that other people can do them. I do have a talent for being audience.
A poem I wrote some time ago speaks to that talent:

Different Gifts

I have the soul of the poet,
but not the pen.
I tremble with the music
but cannot write the song.

It's simple then.
Just tremble.

Love you all.

Keeping At It

I love reading blogs and to please those of you like me, who also like reading them, I am making a contribution today. Actually I am choosing this activity over some things that don't have much appeal - like going through all my files and weeding out what is no longer relevant. Sometimes I love to do that but it is not speaking to me today. Or I could go out in the garage and clean all the inside glass in my car and Armoral all the leather. I got up extra early this morning because Phil comes at eight so I don't have that kind of energy at 4 p.m.
I have just come back from getting my mail, going over to Lincoln Plaza and getting gas and having my car serviced. Went in to AJ's to see if they had hearing aid batteries (they did not) and bought 3 fat free, sugar free bran/raisin muffins. Just finished a pleasant late afternoon snack of a muffin and a glass of skim milk.
Two things I will do before dinner are to meditate for a half hour and burn 100 calories on the bike.
Just took a minute out to call Lis. I have felt ever since she left Steinberg that she was out somewhere in the ether and I wanted to nail down some ways we could communicate. Got that straightened out.
I have made some plans for the weekend. Dorothy and I will see Broken Embraces at Camelview 5 tomorrow night and go for ice cream after and if the timetable works Sara and I will go see a musical review that Rusty Ferracane is in. On Sunday, having become a Cardinals fan these past 2 years, I will be watching them play the Green Bay Packers in the first round of the playoffs. The teams are evenly matched but the Packers are a hot team right now so will be a challenge to get past.
Outside my window I see a dozen pink roses in various stage of bloom. As you fellow desert dwellers know this is not the high season for gardens right now. Mine look pretty good but I look forward to Spring and being more active outside. Phil and I are always working on new projects and it is very satisfying.
I find I go back and forth in my mind over whether to become more involved in the world - join a group or two, do volunteer work, or maintain this call to 'monkhood'.
Phil and I were discussing it this morning. He grew up on a ranch surrounded by acres of open space and mingling with taciturn cowboys. Such conditioning turned him towards monkhood and he has to push himself to socialize. I enjoy socializing - love to be with and around people but I love the silence and serenity of the way I live. My property is like a cloister. Unless I put my eye up to a clear spot in the stained glass by my front door I don't see a person or a car from one day to the next. My views are sky, trees, the pool and waterfall and shrubs and flowers. At this very moment I hear absolutely nothing. As much as I love music I ask myself "Do you want to listen to something right now?" Nine times out of ten all I want to hear is silence.
It is not really surprising. Despite being brought up in a sea of people, in and out of 4 or 5 houses, playing daily with 15 or so other children I have a deeply contemplative side. It certainly did not get much air time raising a family of 10. So now it seems fitting that I have lots of space for the part of me that loves solitude. But I am aware that my more gregarous side wants to push the monk out the door.
I own all five of the books by Adyashanti and as part of my morning ritual I read from one of them. At present I am reading the poems of MY SECRET IS SILENCE. Here is one with which I will close today's post.

A TENDENCY TO SHINE

If you prefer smoke over fire
then get up now and leave.
For I do not intend to perfume
your mind's clothing
with more sooty knowledge.
No,I have someting else in mind.

Today I hold a flame in my left hand
and a sword in my right.
There will be no damage control today.

For God is in a mood
to plunder your riches and
fling you nakedly
into such breathtaking poverty
that all that will be left of you
will be a tendency to shine.

So don't just sit around this flame
choking on your mind.
For this is no campfire song
to mindlessly mantra yourself to sleep with.

Jump now into the space between thoughts
and exit this dream
before I burn the damn place down.

Thank you so much for reading.

Pushing Through

I am inspired this morning by your 'pushing through' Jen. I have the exercise thing pretty much in place. Could be doing better with the weights but I do the bike regularly. I have also trained my stomach with months of under eating to just not want very much food at any one time. For the past several weeks I have not recorded my calories (1300 a day) and have eaten pretty much what I wanted. Doing this I lost a little bit of weight. I was put on thyroxine by my doctor a few months ago and I think it is kicking in. Yesterday I started back on recording the calories as I want to see what the effect of the thyroxine will be when I am under eating.
Where I need to push through is in the area of writing. From the time I was a child and particularly in a college writing class I have been encouraged to write. I self published a sort of memoir and then went on to publish another book based on my own individuation journey (Jungian terminolgy). I have been working on a novel for a number of years (mostly not working on it). I did not see myself as having the ability to write a novel (I marvel at those who do) and nothing so far has changed my mind. The arena in which I do seem to have some gift is poetry. The very best novels come close to or attain the level of poetry for me. It appears to be the genre through which the heart speaks the most clearly. As I have mentioned in a previous post it takes courage for me to write poetry. It is the genre that most undoes me and challenges the control I seem to need to be comfortable in my skin.
So, thanks Jen for helping me push through today and at least write something!(if only to bemoan how I don't write).
I have written many poems and have them sorted into categories. A few are COMPLETE. Many NEED MORE WORK. Others I descrbe as NOT WORTH A REWRITE. Bitterness is a COMPLETE poem and Into the Woods is a NEEDS MORE WORK poem.

Bitterness

I'd like to put my bitterness
out on the line
to blow and flap like sheets
in the cleansing, windy sun.
Instead of storing it
forgotten,
rancid food,
hidden in the coldness of
my refrigerator heart.

I'd like to open up the
frozen space
fire it with a savage love
and burn the bitterness away.
And as a flower in the sun
turns light-ward to bloom,
so turn my heart to love
and live in JOY again.


Into the Woods

We never mourn the
ugly things:
The cutting sarcasm,
the deadly neglect of your
child's birthday,
vindictive anger on the freeway,
and endless little bits
of blame
cluttering up your life like so
many toast crumbs on
the tablecloth.

We know instead the loss
of fresh towels laid out
for three
on Mondays,
the comforting, noisy bleat
of Saturdays'
lawnmower,
his trim-jeaned bottom
bending
over daisies,
the grin that says, Hi!
I'm home!"

We even mourn the myths that
never happen:
Like going into the woods together,
and staying in the woods together,
and living happily
ever, ever after.

I have made mention in a previous post of two poems suggested in a conversation that I had with Marth. I did a first draft of I Have Picasso Hanging in my Bathroom and was somewhat pleased with what came up. But it is in the NEEDS MORE WORK file at the moment. Today I am going to brainstorm the second suggested poem which is about how Marth relates spirituality to nature. She mentions that while walking the Preserve she must keep moving to connect to Spirit. There is not a poem yet so I will share what goes into the "stew pot" today.
By the way this poem has not yet found it's title.

Always moving - always moving -
like? walking, walking the Preserve:
ravaged by pain,
savaged by loneliness,
raging at God.
She says in fury "God, I gave myself to you! Today I take myself back!"
Wind - so much wind.
Pale - early moon like a pain dimmed soul.
Spirit moving - out ahead - follow me -
don't stop for the purple stain of lupine,
the breathless amber/gold/mauve sunset
can't stop to feel the wind,
the Spirit out ahead - follow, follow
- wink of the first star -
can't stop - can't stop.
being with the pain,
being the pain,
driven by the pain,
running from the pain,
raging,
sobbing,
dying,dying
-moving, moving,moving.

Perhaps more will go into the stew pot - I don't know - but like Marth's brain the pot will ferment and a poem will begin to emerge. For now, just waiting.
I always love it when I get into this process. It is a mystery to me that I don't do it more often. Will take a lunch break and then address some of the NEEDS MORE WORK poems.