Category: Pondering Quietly

Some deep thoughts in the shallows of my mind, some shallow thoughts . . . somewhere else.

selfish

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Travelin’ 2010

When I stop writing for awhile I get . . . a sort of constipation of the spirit.  The creative spirit to be specific.  I don’t grows into I can’t.  And when I finally sit down to tap a few keys, I have both too much to say and nothing at all.

And I feel rather garbled.

Forgive me.  The only way to begin again is to just do it.  So . . .

I have been obsessed with travel plans— leave for Italy in 11 days — and the very long list that I’ve made for myself.  My pre-traveling lists, that I make for almost every trip short or long, could be judged compulsive.  It has all the planning steps, packing steps and what I need to do in the house and for the summer Mindful Circle workshop before I close the door.  I have my goals as to how much to do each day to arrived at the door closing with everything essential and a few good wishes done.  My joy here is crossing off what I have done each day.  Simple compulsive pleasure.  However, a long trip makes for a long list.

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sleep

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The night began so well.  I was exhausted, just wanting to get to bed and sleep.  The day was busy enough, physical needs up to date enough to climb into bed right after tucking Julia in.  I tuned into the next Doc Martin episode — my current favorite television — knowing that I’d be asleep almost before the credits were finished.  I would, a little later, close the laptop, thereby dousing light and turning off media.  Yes, I know, I’ve promised myself to keep media out of the bedroom but I was too tired to even open the book on the bed stand and I’d be asleep very soon anyway.

I was looking forward to a solid eight hours, possibly nine if the stars were in alignment and the prospect of getting back to even keel — I have fallen off ‘keel’ lately, working on just one more egg, indulging in electronics and google searches way too late, even when kept out of the bedroom, and walking around bleary on next days.

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self-indulgence

The-LightkeeperI cannot sleep.  Well, I slept for about an hour and a half and then lolled in bed for a similar amount of time, hoping to slip back into dreams.  I did not do enough yesterday and I am not sufficiently tired.

I did not do enough because I had a minor “procedure” on Tuesday — big toe nail removal — and although I am in no pain, I was cautioned to keep the foot elevated for the next few days.  And instead of elevating and reading or writing or figuring out the two web pages I want to put up, I indulged in television. Most unfortunately, the third season of Last Tango in Halifax which just finished airing in England is on YouTube.

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IMG_2616“Sometimes in my own practice I use the image of holding something very fragile, very precious, as if I had something made of glass in my hand. If I were to grab it too tightly, it would shatter and break, but if I were to get lazy or negligent, my hand would open and the fragile object would fall and break. So I just cradle it, I’m in touch with it, I cherish it. That’ s the way we can be with each breath. We don’t want to grab it too tightly or be too loose; too energized or too relaxed. We meet and cherish this moment, this breath, one breath at a time.”

#RealHappiness: The Power of Meditation

~Sharon Salzberg

For me the fear floods in when it is the past the I regret I and the future that I dread.  Paths not taken, leads not followed, hands rejected, potentials unfulfilled.  Futures unknown and unknowable, filled with loneliness, poverty of the spirit and mind, an inability to build anything new or permanent.  Stagnant and still.

My learning is to hold today as the delicate, ephemeral bloom it is, touch its beauty and richness now, and cherish it as it is.  However bruised and imperfect.  Not for what it was or will be.  Observing the now, living the now, fully present in the now.

My resolve is to do this for only this breath.  Now.

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a blue sponge

imagesI was going to write this very nice piece about mindful activity.  An practice that is only beginning to take root in my daily doings, but there is the kinda’ magical thing that is going on that I need to jot down about a blue sponge.

Back in the long ago, David and I were always on the look out for the perfect dish sponge.  David really loved washing dishes — very zen experience for him.  I didn’t like washing dishes but I do have this thing for good tools.  This was not a passionate search but a recurring, alway-short discussion surfacing whenever it came time to replace the tool we used to wash our dishes.  Over the years we tried many things. We rejected the wash clothes of my youth and the sponge on a hollow plastic stick that David’s Dad advocated.  Yes, the pleasure of washing dishes was, in this case, multigenerational.  We used plain manufactured sponges and the more natural ones.  I’ve never been clear on how sponges are made or their history.  We used scrubbies of different varieties and many sponge plus scrubbies.  Size and shape were always wrong, never comfortable in the hand—we cut some in half searching for perfection but that left us with something too small.  The sponge plus scrubby models were never pliable enough to get into the corners and crevices of cups and pots.  Forcing the issue would result in the untimely separation of the sponge from the scrubby.

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ice walking

IMG_3293A friend gifts herself on her birthday with novel experiences like hot air ballooning and power sailing. I am not as ambitious.  In previous years, I wished for perfect days on my birthday — wearing favorite clothes, sleeping late, no housework or homework, good food and culture.  My definition of perfect was pretty broad but these days my definition is still too restrictive to strive for.  And so, time to change.

I’ve started projects on natal days.  Some years I ‘finalize’ resolutions that I just couldn’t get right at the beginning of January.  For many years, I didn’t want to make a big deal about celebrating my birthday but without a partner, if any deal is going to be made, I can’t keep my friends in the dark.  And I am grateful for the rememberings — a few packages, morning coffee with, a phone call or two from, theater in evening and afterwards food so rich my tummy ached, and a big bouquet of Facebook wishes.

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ruts

Blue-Moon-ExpeditionShould it be surprising that as it has warmed up slightly in the last few days—from below zero to almost 20 above—the nano-catastrophes of the last week have found solutions?  Perhaps I am warm brained.

We are settling into the cold.  Flannel duvets on the beds, insulated shades  in colder rooms pulled up only on sunny days over 10 degrees, lined pants and silk long underwear are not merely fashion statements and neither of us runs out of the house without coat, hat and gloves.  Recently, I has a conversation about living in New York City with someone who felt that he would never move to the city because of the high cost of living.  I thought it was about priorities—cultural, education and business opportunities, etc.—but he still couldn’t see it.  Then I said that we choose to live in Wisconsin even though we are predictably miserable due to cold for at least three months, and many years almost six months, every year.  Home, family, job, beautiful and vibrant town, public schools, etc.—a good deal of priorities.

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january

thinking-outside-the-box Excuse the disarray, gentle readers.  A new year brings reorganization of the old and cluttered, rededication to particular journeys and diving into new long term projects.  This year, these ideas are very exciting and before I leave my bed on New Year’s Day, I am appreciating the energy that seems to be at my disposal.  I look forward to 2015 with a gentle enthusiasm which is almost a surprised but which has become familiar and comfortable.  When I make my bed in the morning, I remember when all that I wanted was for the day to end and to return to my bed.  I am still close enough to the years of grieving to viscerally remember being without the energy to begin a single idea.  I am no longer there.  Alleluia! Continue reading →

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notes

Screen Shot 2014-12-17 at 9.04.02 PMDecember weather —gray and wet, damp more than cold —does not inspire festivities.  Neither do the circumstances of our larger community — justice, kindness, compassion seem never-present.  Pondering the absence of fair minded people to think fairly about issues that we’ve all talked about since before I was born has quieted my typing fingers.  I have no unique perspective, I do not move in a large world, the issues that I am passionate about may touch peripherally on the challenges of the day, but I have so little to add.  And yet the racial, ethnic, religious and neuro-diversity of our community is something that I cannot absent myself from.  Do I do wrong to turn from the issues of the day in favor of my passions?

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bison and twinkle lights

Much too early on Thanksgiving day.  The turkey should go into the oven in a three hours and I should be waking up in two to get it in there.  A co-cook to be sure but turkey responsibility translates into responding to the alarm and pulling on jeans and sweatshirt to begin the big feast.

I kinda’ wish I could go back to sleep but I am not putting in (or out) the effort to do so.  Instead, I browse a bit, watch the end of a very sweet movie (Quartet: Billy Connolly, Pauline Collins, Tom Courtenay and Maggie Smith) that I’ve fallen asleep on for the past two nights, and pull this up to scribble.  And scribbled on until the day began and never got back to this.

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