Empty Mind

In the practice of meditation, one is told to empty the mind of the racing thoughts, to calm the monkey mind.  As one sits for meditation one is supposed to slow down and let go of all the thoughts that come.  The image often given is of the mind being like a river and the thoughts are like logs and debris floating in the river.  Just notice the thought as it comes and then let it go on down the river, we're told.  It's always been a struggle for me to slow or stop the thoughts, until recently.  Now I seem to have an empty mind much of the time.  I don't know what's happened or maybe it's just there's not enough happening in my life.  But I am very quiet.  I wonder something is wrong.   I have little to say, so most of the time I just listen to what others say.  I sit outside when the fog lifts and enjoy the peace and quiet of the garden.  Maybe I've reached the goal, though I must confess I do find it boring.  I wonder what mischief I can create to stir things up a bit?

Just returned from our granddaughter's Preschool Graduation and potluck in Palo Alto.  Ten little ones marched down the center aisle in royal blue caps and gowns to Pomp and Circumstance.  They were very dignified and orderly and sat on the platform very quietly.  The age appropriate program consisted of the director saying over and over how much they loved the children and that's why they do this ceremony, the children singing songs (ABC, Twinkle Twinkle, Itsy Bitsy Spider) and then getting their diplomas.  Then we ate.  I didn't cause a ruckus but I saw how to do it.  You run around and around screaming at the top of your lungs and amazingly, if you're 2 or 3 or 4, folks think it's cute.

Memorial Day

Today is the day we honor our war dead and those who have served in the Armed Forces.  It's really seems like a day honoring war and warriors.  While I give my thanks to those who have served and suffered in wars, I am deeply sad today to think that after all the years of human history we haven't come very far.  We're still fighting each other.  There seems no end of tyrants and bigots and those who would kill anyone who disagrees with their philosophy/religion.  And now with there being so very many of us, it is hard to imagine a future without violent conflicts for scarce resources.  What kind of species are we anyway?  Have we not evolved culturally at all?   Is there violence at the very core of human nature?  I hope for better from us humans.  On this Memorial Day, I try to imagine a future with peaceful solutions to conflicts and struggles, but it is hard to conjure up.  I work for peace and justice in my own life and in the communities of which I am a part and hope it makes a difference.  

the girls

After almost a week taking care of the girls, here are some of things I noticed.  Sonja just turned six and has her first loose tooth.  Her clear blue eyes open wide with surprise when she's wiggling it.  She's a curious, free-spirited child who believes in fairies even though they have stopped writing her notes.  She's figured out if she goes to bed in the clothes she's chosen to wear to school the next day, she doesn't have to get dressed in the morning.  She likes to cook and has an efficient competence when making scrambled eggs.  Sitting on the floor, she cracks the eggs into a bowl, measures the milk and salt and mixes them with a fork.  Then she gets out the stool and stands at the stove, stirring the eggy mix with a spatula until they're done.  She makes cheesy toast in her very own toaster oven.   Sonja can be very kind, like the time she helped and encouraged Erika's friend trying to learn how to skate on roller blades.  It was a lovely sight to see Sonja, a whole head shorter, providing the steadying hand.  She can be stubborn when she gets her mind set on something.  She can be sensitive, like the time she burst into tears thinking she'd broken Grandpa's computer by standing on it.  But best of all is to watch Sonja whizzing to school on her Razor scooter with hot pink wheels and hand grips, her blond pony tail swinging behind her.  She's a scooter princess with perfect balance who's pleasure is evident as she glides along.  She likes to go fast and go first and ride in the street.  It's taken me a while to let go of nervousness and just smile watching the child disappear three blocks ahead on the way to school.

 Erika is almost nine, just finishing up 3rd Grade.  She always seems to have her nose in a book.  Going to the library is a favorite activity and it isn't unusual to check out thirty books.  There are open books all over the house, on the table, on the arms of chairs, on the edge of the bathtub and of course in her bed.  She's got the sophistication of the older child who has figured things out and taken on responsibility.  She's careful, when she was practicing roller blading around the block she wanted Gramma to walk nearby, just in case anything happened.  She takes voice lessons, piano lessons and tennis lessons and all would benefit (she knows) if she practiced.  She sings along in church, reading the music and singing in tune.  She's sweet and will give a hug and ask for a snuggle.  She's scared of thunderstorms, running to climb in bed with me as the lightning flashes and thunder crashes.  And she loves vegetables.  I think she's the only girl in town who will request cucumbers when asked what she wants for a snack.  Getting to be with the girls is its own pleasure and reward.  We are so blessed.

Green Michigan

We arrived in Michigan last night, too tired and too late to notice much but the warm welcome of the family.  This morning the green here overwhelmed me.  Trees, grass, all manner of plants in the gardens are a deep fresh green, still brand new.  Walking around the block this afternoon with Erika, almost 9, as she practiced roller blading was a lesson in how this 9 year old sees the world.  She was captivated by dandelions gone to seed and picked one after the other to blow the little white parachute seeds off.  At one point she gushed, "Just think, all this new life, just waiting to grow into another plant."  I thought the world could be covered with dandelions, the question is why isn't it?  I loved her poetic observation.  After dinner,  we walked to the Tasti Twist, the local soft ice cream shop.  As we walked, we watched Sonja descend into a crabby mood so frustrated we couldn't keep up with her as she whizzed down the sidewalk on her Razor scooter.  Her form on the scooter was beautiful.   Today we are watching  but tomorrow and the next 6 days, we're in charge of the girls, a task I face with more than a little trepidation.  I want to keep my eyes open for the moments of beauty and joy and remember just to have fun with them.

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day today, the day to remember all the mothers who gave us life and nurtured us along the way.  I like expanding the idea of mothers to include Mother Earth and Mother God as well as all the earthly mothers we've had.  I remember my children on this day and the great joy they gave me.   I never liked little kids or babysitting when I was a teenager, so I was surprised how much I loved being a mother.  Maybe it was the hormones, maybe my particular wonderful sons, maybe my maturity, whatever it was it was a highlight of my life.  I loved watching them grow and become.  I loved all the activity and all the music in our house.  And when they left to go to college, mostly grown up, it was one of the saddest days of my life.  I love knowing them and watching them live their lives.  I am so proud of them.   I am happy today to be remembered with phones calls, flowers, chocolate and an invitation to dinner cooked by a son living nearby (he must have been well brought up!).   No matter who we are we all owe our very lives to our mothers who brought us into this incredible and beautiful world.  Praise them all!

the news

This morning's news in the newspapers (San Francisco Chronicle and New York Times) is unremitingly bad.  The Bay Bridge tower has corroded bolts and is probably not earthquake safe.   East Bay MUD is required to switch to its unsavory reservoir and now our drinking water will taste bad for the forseeable future and there's not enough of it.  A US doctor who survived Ebola now has his eye full of the Eboba virus.   Paul Krugman thinks the British Conservatives are not thinking clearly on their economic policy.  I wonder why good news doesn't sell newspapers.  What is it about human nature that wants to focus on all the problems?  So much of what we think of as truth is just one perspective.  Truth with a capital T is elusive.  Why can't I read an analysis of a changing attitude on race relations?  I think the public consciousness in the last few months has really come to understand that black men are given a bad rap by the police.  That's good, a small step toward more justice.  I sit here this morning seeking something positive to focus on so I can start my morning with a smile.

Looking for the Magic Key

Reflecting on my recent Road Scholar trip, I now see that I had hoped for inspiration and help to write my memoir.  For many years, I've had the idea to write down my life story for the grandchildren.  As it stands, there is no whole, just lots of little unconnected pieces, writings from courses I've taken over the years.  I was looking for some sort of magic key that would get me over the hump.  I did not find that.  The writing exercises with the guest authors, while mostly fun, weren't that much help.  Some were downright irritating.  The experience was more one of meeting eccentric characters living along the Oregon Coast.  Don't get me wrong,  I had a great time.  I have enduring visions of walking the beach at low tide early one morning hunting for agates and of gazing out my balcony window one afternoon and in one hour spotting ten whales.  Now I recognize that there are no magic keys for writing.  One just has to write. What I need is a serious dose of discipline to organize and pull together all the anecdotes I have.  I learned no one else can give me what I need because I already have it within me.  That in itself is a big learning and I am grateful to have come to recognize that, even if it took a trip to the Oregon Coast to find it.