The Eyes Have It

Some months ago we replaced the deteriorating fence  

between our house and a neighbor's. 

His side now has a board near the top

that runs the entire length. 

It has been turned 

into a squirrel highway 

and is run with 

great intention.

  

Yesterday, I looked out our south window 

that overlooks this highway 

and spotted a squirrel with a 

green walnut in its mouth. 

It paused and turned toward me.  

I stared; our beady eyes locked. 

Forgetting that a closed double paned window 

separated us, I said in my sternest voice, 

intent on showing that I was experienced in 

the wily way of squirrels,  

"Don't plant that in my yard."   

   

The squirrel continued to stare, 

walnut in mouth, 

I do not think  

my land claim was believed.    

I, too, continued to stare with my 

biggest squirrel sized eyes, 

and repeated myself, again forgetting 

I probably could not be heard. Then again 

I am not certain words really touch 

the minds of squirrels, but words were 

pretty much all that I had at the moment, 

(Well, pretty much in any given moment). 

I had already spent some time in the front yard 

and noticed there had been a fair amount of digging.

I stood resolute. 

With a flick of the tail, the highway squirrel turned 

and briskly continued on 

a journey that refused to be deterred.      

 

I thought nothing more about it 

until I went to the backyard 

sometime later.  

There, on the stairs, on the second step, 

a green walnut had been placed.  

Laughing, I brought the offering in.  

The biggest surprise? 

Its sweet scent, like flowers.  

This morning, the scent is gone. 

The smile remains, 

as does the highway, though 

the traffic has not started.

   

 A wily squirrel indeed.

Maybe it was my eyes.   

Resting in the Immortal

 In last night's yoga class, our teacher re-introduced a posture that I am definitely not adept with. As she began to lay down on her mat to get into position, she mentioned that the posture is called the immortal one, and added that she did not know why. However, as soon as she laid on her side, and rested her head in the hand of her bent arm, I knew I was seeing the Reclining Buddha. I have not thought of this image of the resting Buddha in quite a while. I thought the statue I was seeing in my mind was probably Thai. An internet search this morning confirmed that, although statues appear in other countries as well. Some statues are quite elaborate, others profoundly simple. I am not going to try to include a photograph as I pirate too much as it is, but I do recommend wandering through the many images of the Reclining Buddha that are on the internet. 

This morning I learned that the statue portrays Buddha just before his physical death. He appears, of course, quite composed and relaxed. I confess I lack such composure when attempting this yoga position that includes laying on one side, resting the head in the palm of the hand, stretching out both legs, elevating one's top leg, and maybe gracefully reaching up and taking hold of one's big toe. I think I have returned to yoga much too late to master this move. However, such composure is worth pondering.

 

The Reclining Buddha also makes me think of Jesus sleeping in what was probably a pretty rickety first century Galillean fishing boat in the midst of a storm with panicking disciples hovering over him. I think of my own mind, so full of whirling concerns, memories, fantasies, and other bits of souvenirs that I have collected and stashed there during this lifetime. It is amazing that there is any room at all for Jesus and Buddha. However, they take up far less room than I do because they mainly reside in the vastness of the heart. Too often I forget to journey there.

 

 While I was walking back to the car last night after class, I realized that the daylight hours have grown shorter, and this morning does have a touch of coolness that reminds me of autumn. Also this morning I came across again the following quote that Diana Butler Bass recently included in her June 22nd post. I am grateful because her post also led me to a wonderful book entitled Awe, The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Change Your Life by UC Berkeley psychologist, Dacher Keltner.  The research is fascinating and encouraging. It seems we have been made for awe. It also seems that awe helps us clean up our psychic debris so we can once again gaze in wonder, delight, and gratitude. I think that maybe we really can return to the garden because in truth, we never really left it. We just forgot to look.        

 

Given all of life’s ambiguities and the reality of impermanence and suffering,
our existence is remarkable, wondrous.
It evokes awe and amazement.
We need to pay attention. Really pay attention.
Lest we become blind to the awe and wonder that fills our days.
 Marcus J. Borg  

      

        

 

image: San Leandro, from a few years ago,  

Moving Into the Day

 While I am not a gavel to gavel sort of convention viewer, I did watch and weep my way through some of the Democratic National Convention. We have not owned a television in years, so what I did watch was on my laptop while sitting on the couch, giving me a sense that I was not so much viewing it, but reading it -  a very pleasant sensation. 

Being in this world at this time is teaching me that there is much about Christianity and democracy that I have too long taken for granted. I, like others I am sure, am in the process of reclaiming my ideals that are centered in a deep knowing that we all are called to freedom. However, that freedom must entail our being in relationship with what is often referred to in the Bible as the world, and with one another. Yes, my eyes can see only a small part of the world at any given moment. Fortunately, the heart and the imagination know a much more far reaching vista. They offer the assurance that God is still clearing a miraculous way so humanity can continue to grow into our full humanness. 

The days ahead will be full of challenges and more than likely some attempts at deceit and even treachery. Totalitarians have historically exhibited a low tolerance for people full of hope and dreams that are not centered on the ones yearning for absolute power. Yet, let us refuse to accept those small confining cages with bars that have been constructed out of hate and fear. Even if they trap us for a bit, they cannot hold us for long. We are so much larger than they can possibly know.   

               

The small man

builds cages for everyone
he
knows.

While the sage,
who has to duck his head
when the moon is low,
keeps dropping keys all night long
for the
beautiful
rowdy
prisoners.

~ Hafiz   

      

 

 

  

This image is from 2016. A neighbor had invited us to an afternoon backyard party. I walked past his garage and noticed this beautiful lock. His house had been built in the early 30s. The neighbor knew nothing about the history of the lock.   

A Dream of Light

 In the dream I am walking on a path. The light reminds me of late twilight.  A man, tall and lean, crosses the path before me. He does not look at me. I see that he is carrying a small light. At first I think it is only a burning match, but I then see that he carries, not a match, but a small light encased in glass.  I also remember a small, still body of water by the path.  He would have walked over it to cross my path. 

I have dreamt of this man before, but it has been quite awhile since he has appeared (The last time he appeared he was in the form of fire. I believe I met him on this same path. The light was much the same.) Yesterday I told a friend about this recent dream. She suggested that I ask him where he wants me to go. Before I went to sleep last night I posed that question.    

I dreamed that I met the mother of a friend. In the dream she smiles and hands me a beautiful wooden flute. She also has one, and we play together.  She laughs so easily that I, too, can laugh.  In the dream I am happy. 

Yet, this morning I think of my own mother with sadness, and I feel the emptiness that I think has been with me for a long time. Perhaps it is to that emptiness where I am being led, to that part of me that my mother was simply not able to fill. I must remember that space is sacred. I must not rush to fill it because it is a space to inhabit. It is a place where love lives. I do not want  to crowd that out.   

   

"May I be content to wait in peace, 

until You stir the waters within to act;

may I be patient with myself

and with others. 

O that I may have the light of wisdom, 

the steadfastness of faith....

Guide me now, O Blessed One, 

along the path of peace."   

  

from Psalm 105 from Psalms for Praying by Nan C. Merrill  

For this meditation I changed Merrill's  plural pronouns to singular. 

Photograph was taken in my backyard, March 2023    

  

  

A Reminder from a Sunflower

 This sunflower grows in front of a house on a short street not far from where we live. I have grown fond of this tidy street because several of these what used to be considered modest homes but now it seems they are worth over a million dollars, have lively pollinator friendly front gardens. These small oases encourage me to pause and give thanks as I watch the movement of bees, an occasional butterfly, and other insects as they go about their work. This morning I just had to walk down a short driveway to get a closer look at this tall, healthy sunflower taking in the bright warm sunlight. Alas, my movement did make the woman who lives there a little nervous. She stuck her head out her front door and uttered a tentative "Hello?"  While the greeting was certainly not menacing, it was not welcoming either.  I responded with my own greeting and said that I was sorry to disturb her, but I just wanted to get a closer look at her beautiful sunflower. She then opened her door further and rushed down her three front stairs and asked, "Isn't it beautiful? I am so pleased!"  I replied that she should be, and we talked for a couple of minutes more about her first effort at growing sunflowers. I think we both grew in our brief exchange because for just a little while, we were relating to one another and that meeting changed us. That is the healing that life offers. 

I see being in relationship with others (including sunflowers and other manifestations of life) as very much a part of what it means to be human, and certainly what it means to be a person of faith. There are those who want to isolate our country, supposedly in the spirit of making us stronger. However, as I have said before, I do not think that is their ultimate goal. They want us to be small and controllable. Yet, our divine birthright is that we continue to grow, to reach out, to try to mend broken relationships, and make new alliances. In other words, to be in relationship.  As we do this, we become more, not less. Together, we can ease some of the pressures on our beautiful earth. Together, all of us can heal.  

After we said our good-byes, I walked on. I remembered that years ago a friend asked me about my photography.  She questioned, "Don't you worry that your neighbors find your behavior a little strange?"  As I turned towards home I smiled and thought that I would rather be considered strange than small.    

Let us vote expansively this year. I believe voting big can help the world breathe a little easier. Let us always have more confidence in our wisdom than in our fear. Let us make room for children to breathe and grow.

 This is the wisdom of sunflowers.  

   

       

image: San Leandro, August 2024

Appearances

 The front of our house faces, among other things, the side of a building that is home to a casual, but fairly upscale restaurant. Certainly our street is busier since they opened, but most of the time I don't mind the comings and goings. Last night as I was preparing for bed a little early with the intention to read, I heard a woman exclaim, "Look! A rainbow!" I looked out the window and saw her aiming her cell phone to the sky. I had to go and see for myself. Yes, I was in my pajamas.

When I got to the sidewalk, I could see no rainbow, but the light was beautiful. The sky was full of pink, orange, and blue hues. My eyes scanned once more, and sure enough I spotted what looked to be a faint portion of a rainbow. I quickly called out to Tyler to come and see. As we stood together, we saw the lovely full arch of a rainbow stretch across the clouds as the sun set behind us. It was mesmerizing. Two of our neighbors came out to inquire what we were looking at. We don't often see them, and we had a nice chat, more or less under the rainbow. We were surrounded by color. The moment seemed so full of the splendor and the silence of God. I was filled with trust and love. No, I did not try to photograph this faint but glorious rainbow stretching across the sky. The young woman who did take a photograph did not linger long enough to witness the rainbow unfold. She and the person she was with had driven away by the time I came outside. I am grateful for her sighting, and inadvertently alerting me to what was about to be revealed. I was reminded of the gift of sometimes just not needing to be anywhere but right where I had been planted.

The sun dropped beneath the horizon, and night began. One cannot hold on to these moments. There is no hold button, nor can we rewind. The best we can do is to linger and give thanks, and remember as best we can.

I did do a Google search on rainbows when there is no rain. What came up were the terms, fire rainbow and cloud iridescence. I think I will simply call it a miracle. I recently listened to a podcast with Dacher Keltner, a psychology professor at UC Berkeley and the author of the book, Awe. He contends, and I must agree, that a sense of awe is essential for our well being and sense of wholeness. I think each of us would benefit from paying attention to what gives us a sense of awe, and celebrate those discoveries as they arise.

    

image: San Leandro, May 2024