where I'm at (a self portrait, of sorts)
At times I cannot find patience no matter how hard I search.
Sometimes though, I have an infinite reserve.
This makes me human, I know. And still I want so badly to have it always.
Witnessing the community and brotherhood at the loss of one of Mike's fellow firefighters,
I cried at the sights and sounds of mourning, at the words of daughters and a wife left behind, at the handing over of flags and helmets.
I smiled at the telling of fond memories, at the power in group recollection.
because how could I not?
I know better though, and you can be sure I stopped imagining pretty quickly.
instead I counted my blessings
so grateful for what I have, and so much more so for who I have,
though of course they are not really mine, no one is...
still, grateful for it all
So I go to the garden with my girl, to the porch with her, the creek...
in those places I find happiness, relief, a thousand answers to a thousand questions
I watch her explore.
And oh, that is such strong medicine for me.
I remember to be thankful that I'm able to be here, watching her explore.
I tell her not to pick the unripe tomatoes.
I'm waiting for those, you know.
She picks them anyway.
Of course she does.
If I were her height, staring right at those shiny little green globes... I'd pick them too.
I remind myself to laugh, to smile, not scold.
What can I expect from a toddler in a garden?
Her "helping" (though not helpful in the most obvious of ways) holds many lessons for me.
And so, helping it is.
Suppose maybe I should be thanking her for picking the unripe tomatoes?
They are sungolds, after all.
I'm working on recognizing when the things I "need" to do aren't really.
On being fair,
on being mindful.
And other things as well.
I really (really) want to not mind when my cat jumps all over me meowing in his needy incessant way. I know it's just that he loves me and it's been a long time since he's had my undivided attention. But still, I've got a ways to go. How do I explain to him that it's been a long time since I've had my undivided attention?
I'm preferring beer over wine these days,
coffee and tea equally,
and wondering if chocolate milk, melon and toasted sourdough with blueberry jam could be a balanced diet. Oh, and grilled cheese with fresh tomatoes and squash.
Mmmm, and ice cream.
Throw in some cucumbers and greens for good measure.
Happily I move from classical guitar to bluegrass to hip hop, enjoying how each makes me move in a different way. Smile in a different way. Generally go about my business in different ways.
Interact even, in different ways.
I wonder if Andres Segovia and Sam Bush would get along?
Gillian Welch and Common?
I'm sure if we threw Michael Franti into the mix he'd make sure everyone got on just great.
I hug. Long and hard.
I love. Deeply.
But I can also be quite a pain to those I hug and love. Of course.
I wonder about things. Some big things. A lot of seemingly insignificant things.
How do we find the balance between feeling grief and empathy and maintaining a positive outlook and joyful heart amidst pain and suffering? Why do some people get dogs just to chain them up and ignore them? Why is there always a cricket in the bathroom? Should I be concerned about getting Margaret to sleep in the coop instead of outside? (Margaret is a chicken) Which wooden play kitchen do I want to get for Claire? Does the train in town follow a regular schedule? How can I become more mindful about making sure that the people in my life who are most dear to me know it? Do they know it? It's 11pm, should I get the diapers off the line or leave them until tomorrow?
In the evening when the wind blows and it's just the right temperature and I close my eyes, letting it swirl around me, I am in heaven.
The same applies to when I am near the coast, any coast, and I feel the warm salty ocean breeze and hear the gulls.
Close my eyes.
that's enough for now.
I quite enjoyed that.
For the rest of the week, I'll be sharing some of my favorite passages from the book I am enjoying now, Present Moment, Wonderful Moment, Mindfulness Verses for Daily Living, by Thich Nhat Hanh. I've chosen the half dozen verses that resonate with me the most right now and I'll share at least one each day.