Lush

It's a beautiful Sunday morning.  I'm sitting in my teeny back yard listening to the sound of birds chirping guarding what might be dozens of nests in this small space.  I hear the flow of water in my small pond and listen to the sounds of the city going by.

I'm told the irony of this early spring is the deep snowfall we had on the ground until mid-March.  It kept the ground insulated at around 32 degrees while the temperatures fell into the single digits at night during late winter.  Everything is green and lush in it's late spring beauty bringing new life and growth into this world as we move into summer.

In the cacophony of life, there is a stillness that is unmistakable.

I feel much the same way:

insulated by the quiet and unrelenting winter snowfall
growing in to this stronger and healthier body
breathing life into what is next
feeling a part of the lushness of life

with gifts of great peace and stillness.

.earth.air.fire.water.

Encountering and Emptiness

"The You encounters me by grace--it cannot be found by seeking. But that I speak the basic word to it is a deed of my whole being, is my essential deed.

The You encounters me. But I enter into a direct relationship to it. Thus the relationship is election and electing, passive and active at once: An action of the whole being must approach passivity, for it does away with all partial actions and thus with any sense of action, which always depends on limited exertions.

The basic word I-You can be spoken only with one's whole being. The concentration and fusion into a whole being can never be accomplished by me, can never be accomplished without me. I require a You to become; becoming I, I say You.

All actual life is encounter." ~Martin Buber, I and Thou

This is a passage from one of my favorite books, Buber's I and Thou.  I most recently thought about it while talking with a dear friend about the Buddhist concept of the transient (or impermanent) nature of things and how you enter into relation with anything or anyone after the pain and fear of loss.   Growing up Jewish with strong Buddhist leanings and alot of study, I perceive the transient nature of our experience as the  common I-It experience -- an experience of subject-object and those things are indeed transient.  It is important to accept the nature of the change of our world of objects, people, places, things.  


I think of the concept of Buddhist emptiness more as the I-Thou (or I-You in the more modern Kaufmann translation) relation. We are an empty vessel with the capacity to filled with encounters of people, places, things, nature that extend through all time and space and connect us with the essence and source of being alive.  It is that capacity for emptiness and non-attachment through which we may be clear vessels for the deepest type of experiences.  Some may consider this the purest evidence of God, love, or our interconnectedness.  


Through my own exploration of myself in the light of Buddhist philosophy, I found myself much better able to handle the change, loss, and love of this life.  If we look at the potential of our experience to instead be encounters with all that is, we can move forward without fear and find more opportunity for joy.


Our I-Thou encounters, our moments of most profound emptiness are unique encounters between our hearts and our experience.  They are moments we carry with us through all space and time, expanding our heart, enabling us to better work toward the relief of our own suffering, and that of others.  They are unique to our whole being, our lives and they are the foundation of  our individual worldview.


We may seek to repeat an encounter or to share our transcendent encounters with others.  We must recognize that experience is different for everyone and that impermanence insists that we "may not step in the same river twice."  [Heraclitus] We may seek to influence others by attempts to share what is innately personal, individual, and unique; however, we need mindfulness that our experience cannot be theirs.  We need not fear this because as we look at the world with wonder we remind ourselves that we are empty vessels that can be filled with the vastness of the universe at any time; through any experience.  As we bring loved ones to the places where we experience this wonder, we show them how to be in the world with a full heart, with compassion and courage.
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I have heard people describe that when stepping to the rim of the Grand Canyon, they feel very small in relation to its vastness. In contrast I look at that enormous carving through the red rocks and feel as big as the entire universe and as old as all time, recognizing my connection to that place and to all that ever was there; allowing it, for as long as it will, to fill all space and time in my consciousness.


[photograph was taken in Santa Fe, NM Rio Grande Gorge, October 2005] 

Motion

As I sit reflecting on the stillness of this house, I am at peace with the fact that everything is in a state of change.  In this quiet solitude, I find harmony in the flow of life.

I've Heard the Stories

It took a while, but I started hearing the stories.  Lashing out in public with bigoted remarks; fighting with police officers.  Trying to beat up your husband when you were far too drunk to stand.

I heard the story about how you left when you went back to school.  How you couldn't study your art living so close to him.  How you expected him to be able to take care of everything and not grieve your departure. How you moved back, but into the apartment next door; later out of the apartment, but into a separate bedroom.  Yet, then, you two still occasionally felt the strong desire of years of physical love.

I heard the more he adapted to your abandonment, the angrier you became.  Like a moth trapped in a spiders' web, the more you fought the more you became stuck in the web of your own doing.

I heard the story about how you took a butcher knife and disemboweled his meditation pillow as if it were the heart and soul of your deteriorating marriage.  I heard the story of the friends who provided him creature comforts when everything he had built his life around was physically threatened.

I heard how he left the house with nothing but the clothes on his body, a pillow and a sleeping bag.

I've been there when you pounded the windows, relentlessly, for hours. I've been around to hear you screaming on the phone, threatening to call the police because we were cooking together. I helped him when he lent you his car and you refused to return it for days; sometimes weeks.

I was there twice when you pinned me in the apartment with your car.  And, actually, it was your sister-in-law's car.  I cleaned up the mess when you covered both our cars in dog shit the frosty night before Easter 2008.

You have terrorized him for years.  You have tried to terrorize me for a while.  He worked so hard to build that life with you and you tore it down.

Although you terrorized us both, I did what was possible to help. I cared about you because I care about him.  I'm not there for him now, but I will be there for him for the court proceedings...as will every person that I know that can speak to his goodness, kindness and humanity.

You had everything.  After you left; even after he left he continued to provide you everything you could have possibly needed to the exclusion of everyone; including me.  Still, you relentlessly pushed all of the good support you could have had away.  I'm not there anymore; I'm not sure he's there any more.  I don't know.  We don't talk.  We aren't walking in the same world these days.

I want you to understand: we do create the world we live in through our actions and intentions.   It takes two people to intentionally live in harmony as lovers.  It takes only one person to destroy that.  You created the angry world you now live in.  You did. You're there all by yourself.

Happy anniversary to you.  Happy. Anniversary. To. You.

Mother's Day 2010

"I'm visiting my 37 year old daughter.  Her birthday is on Mother's Day this year.  We're at the zoo and having a great time."

"I'm worried about my girls.  I'm having trouble dealing with my own pain from my divorce and I have a hard time not seeing their world through my pain.  They are reaching puberty and using the separation (I want to go live with Daddy) to hurt me when they are angry."

"I'm celebrating my 60th wedding anniversary this week."

'I'm a new stepmom...well, not really...we're not married, but I love having the kids around.  They call me their "friend-mom." '

"It's been a long time since I've felt any intimacy with my husband.  As painful as it is; it isn't changing.  I can't seem to change yet I can't let go.  I'm afraid."

"I'm missing my mom.  She died last year. I will go to the cemetery and bring her flowers."

"I'm beautiful and strong and I have a gorgeous teenage daughter.  My ex-husband and I have done a great job of letting her know she is dearly loved and providing nurturing environments for her to grow."

"I'm a single mom in love again.  What a wonderful surprise.  It's hard because I've got alot of baggage, but I am learning so much about myself.  My kids and family love him, too."

"I have trouble with my kids.  We don't see each other as often as I'd like...and again, my son cancelled dinner plans; this time on mother's day.  I went to dinner with a friend and we celebrated moms."

"I never had children, but have been pregnant in the past.  I frequently wonder what kind of a mother I would have been.   Menopause is setting in, I will not have children of my own."

"I took my daughter on her first driving practice.  The best present for mother's day is that we came back in one piece and she's getting a little comfortable driving."

"My mom had her 70th birthday on Friday of mother's day weekend.  She had breast cancer a few years ago and is recovered. We are celebrating all weekend."

"I never knew my mom.  I grew up in foster homes and it was really hard.  I still have a hard time thinking about her and my childhood."

"My mom and my mother-in-law had the same unusual name.  They have both been gone for a while, as has my husband.  We had no children, but I always spend this day enjoying dear friendships."

"This is our first mother's day as parents.  We are so far from our families and my husband is in grad school.  Somehow, I can stay at home with our daughter.  She is so beautiful."

"My dad died last year and her baby sister died last week.  I am so worried about her.  She seems not to want to share how she is feeling and I know it must be so hard.  She wanted nothing to do with mother's day celebration, but we were able to plan just the right thing and she had such a wonderful time.  She seems to be feeling better.  She's 93."

"I am a step mom.  The day after mother's day, we get to go see the ultrasound of our first grandchild.  We are so excited.  So excited."

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These are some of this week's stories of moms I know.  As I type this, I am listening to the Diane Reem show on NPR and they are talking about preventing abusive relationships.  I am thinking about all of the women and men I know, their loved ones (family, friends, lovers, children) and how our interactions model healthy (or unhealthy) relationships with people.  It is so critical to model love, compassion, and kindness for our children; to create home as a place of safety, peace, and joy.

On this Mother's Day and during this year, I wish for us all that we can look at our family and friends with eyes of compassion and joy.   I wish that we see the mother in all of us and each take responsibility for our place in this world.

Zenn

Billy Zenn used to be known as Billy Bragg.  Actually, that *is* his name.  I've known him for a while here in Columbus.  Decades.   Bill's wife is Vicky and she's an actress...I've seen her perform in Shakespeare in the park innumerable times.

The last time I saw Billy before tonight was October 13th.  I said, "Come to my house for my soup party...celebrating my husband's life...bring a guitar and Vicky and your friends and join us."  That was at the open mike night at the Thirsty Ear.  One of the city's best and most well known musicians, Billy ran the open mike night.  I told him I'd bring the address for him on the 20th.  I went to the Thirsty Ear that evening and found Billy had a heart attack and heart surgery that day.

I didn't want to pry...hadn't seen him in a long time...I kept going to the Thirsty Ear and when they re-instituted the open mike night, well, it was less than stellar and no sign of Bill.

Uh-oh.

Holding my breath...

Then, I hear, "He's running open mike at a different place -- right down the street from you."  "No shit; that's wonderful."

So I walk to the venue chatting on the phone with a dear friend and when he sees me passing by, he comes out to say "hi."  (Maybe that's just my perception).  I went in, the music was great; crowd terrific and we sat for two hours talking life, philosophy, and of course, diet.

And I find, two of Columbus' music icons have died recently.  I see another who seems to have early stages of Parkinson's disease...a wonderful guitarist and I am brokenhearted at the impacts of sometimes seeing the world from my eyes.

And I realize how fragile life is.

Do what makes you happy.  Be love.  Don't worry about the rest.