Trudger

Problems, situations, choices

2012-01-18T08:47:00.001-08:00

Daily Dhamma
Courage isn't always about a sensational struggle, sometimes it's just, in the face of profound discouragement, finding the will to keep going. ~Cory Booker

Problems are really just evidence of life being lived. The term "problem" suggests there is a solution, doesn't it? Some things we call problems are not problems because they really have no solutions -- they simply must be accepted. They are situations.

A friend's teenage son ran away five days ago and is still missing. This is a problem.

A friend's sister died and left a widower who apparently is incapable of dealing with life. This is a situation for my friend, but is both a situation and problem for the widower.

A friend's father has been diagnosed with an inoperable tumor. This is not a problem for anyone. It is a situation that must be gone through. In one way or the other, an inevitability for all of us.

The bank is asking for yet more information from me. This is a problem.

Other things that are called problems are also not problems, but dueling choices. Do I do this or do I do that? Feels like a problem and can create anxiety, but once the decision is made, there is usually some relief.If you have problems, be grateful because there is at least the possibility of solutions. If you have situations, they too shall pass and become part of the tapestry of your life. If you have choices, rejoice! That means you don't have a situation or a problem.

Graties ~

1. My Three A Day group on Facebook which reminds me to be grateful for things like wax paper and Wikapedia (now that it's down for 24 hours, doncha miss it?).

2. The eggs my niece sends me from time to time, from her own cage free chickens.

3. Finding something to laugh about nearly every day.

This reminds me of my friend's story about being arrested for drunk driving in the vegetable aisle of FoodMax. Funny story.

No pain, no gain?

2011-12-16T14:59:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and deprecate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightning. ~Frederick Douglass

The Frederick Douglass quote reminds me of something an old friend told me: "Linda, you are a like the tree that wants to bear fruit, but refuses to be pruned." She was right. I wanted to learn, but didn't want to be taught. I resented any advice or hint of criticism. I still don't like it much, but does anyone really? Even so-called constructive criticism? Nevertheless, in order to grow, we have to be pruned whether we like it or not.

One of the reasons 12-step programs work so well is that it is one sufferer talking to another sufferer. No one is talking down from a superior or professional position. They share their own experience, strength and hope. They don't lecture. They never tell someone what to do. They tell them what they did. There are other programs that operate basically the same way without the God factor. They work well too if the person is really interested in getting clean and sober or otherwise stopping whatever behavior they are engaging in that is killing them and making others crazy.

Graties ~

1. The oranges on one of my orange trees are finally ripe enough to eat.
2. Frugality can be a fun challenge.
3. My car is clean, inside and out.

Cool, laid back, and on the path

2011-12-14T08:32:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to the span of life? ~Jesus, Matthew 6:27; Luke 12:25

Jesus really had it going on with that advice on worrying. I have never improved my lot in life one iota with the inordinate amount of hours I've spent worrying. To the extent that I can let go of worry, life is much improved no matter what happens.

Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are. ~Chinese Proverb

Aubrey meditating, September 9, 2008.

Don’t seek, don’t search, don’t ask, don’t knock, don’t demand – relax. If you relax, it comes. If you relax, it is there. If you relax, you start vibrating with it. ~Osho

I gave blood yesterday. I was a little dizzyish the rest of the day. Not bad, but I could definitely tell I was a pint low. I'm so grateful to still be able to give blood. I think about the times I sat with Savanah while she was being transfused and the few times when we literally had to wait for blood because they did not have her type. By the time they decided to transfuse Savanah, she was always so pale and weak I was sure she would expire if she didn't get blood immediately, so not having the blood ready to go was damned scary. While we are waiting, the blood bank is searching for a donor with that blood type to come in and give and they are calling other blood banks to borrow blood. Sometimes that blood has to travel hundreds of miles. What was going through my mind was, Are they going to get it here in time or is she going to die? Watching her "pink up" again was such a relief.

When you are giving blood at a blood bank like our local one, it is all very festive. The people working there are friendly. They go out of their way to make your experience easy. They almost always give you some sort of reward, like a t-shirt or a coupon for a free pizza or carwash. The place is bright and clean. But, as I watch my blood going into that bag, I can't help but think about the person on the other end. Maybe someone with a blood disorder or someone who has been in a traumatic accident or enduring some sort of long surgery.

Yeah, that little poke smarts a bit, but I know first hand what my small sacrifice, performed under ideal conditions, might mean to someone else. It might sound as if I'm bragging. Maybe I am, but my primary reason for talking about this is to encourage any of you who are healthy and able to donate to do so. A young man came up and sat next to me at the snack counter after I was finished giving blood. He had just donated too. It was his first time. He was shy, but when I said, "Good for you," he smiled like he'd done something really important. He had.

I hope you are all cool, laid back, and on the path today.

Graties ~

1. Blood donors and blood banks.
2. Kindles, Nooks, iPads and all other manner of tablets.
3. When Leetle is sleeping her breathing sounds like a bird cooing.

After the Storm

2011-09-14T06:49:00.000-07:00

Daily Dhamma
Three things in human life are important: The first is to be kind. The second is to be kind. And the third is to be kind. ~Henry James

The weather in my neck o' the woods is boring, except for Fall. Fall is beautiful here.

Summers typically are hot with endless days of sunshine and blue skies. Not that there's anything wrong with sunshine and blue skies. I'm sure people in the northwest would love a few more of them, but when one small cloud dotting the sky is worth noting, you know you've seen enough of blue skies.

Winters are dark, often foggy, and damp. About once every six or seven years we get what is called a wet winter because we actually get measurable precipitation. Last year was like that here. We gleefully watched as the snowpack rose in the mountains, the rivers, streams, and canals flowed, the lakes in the State filled up after years of drought, and groundwater basins were replenished.

Over this past weekend we had a rare summer storm. Lots of thunder and lightning, with a little bit of wind and smattering of rain. It was spectacular for the locals because we don't get to witness such an event very often. About fifty fires were lit by lightning strikes around the county. Firefighters are still working around the clock to put them out. The fires are nothing like what happened in Texas, but still people have lost homes, outbuildings, and small towns are being evacuated. I worry about the critters.

I think about the people across the country who are suffering the effects of flooding and torrential rains. I hope the system that came through here plays itself out soon and doesn't cause further damage to other parts of the country.

We are all just one natural event away from disaster. You'd think that would humble us enough to be nicer to each other, but it isn't bad enough that we have to deal with the unpredictability of nature, we war with each other over the stupidest stuff. Then, when disaster strikes, we band together, reaching out a hand to someone we wouldn't normally reach out to. Maybe the hand is a different color or is attached to someone who is gay or is of a different ethnicity or religion. None of that matters when Nature speaks her mind.

Maybe natural disaster is the Universe's way of getting our attention to what is important.

A simple act of compassion

2011-08-29T06:57:00.000-07:00

Daily Dhamma
People so seldom say I love you
And then it's either too late or love goes.
So when I tell you I love you,
It doesn't mean I know you'll never go,
Only that I wish you didn't have to.

~Author Unknown

Sago wrote this morning about a dying butterfly. Her simple act of compassion moved me. She wrote:

I found a dying butterfly on the cobblestones. It was blue-winged with black edges, and very pretty, long delicate black legs--one of its wings was ripped a bit toward its body. I put my finger out to it and slowly it climbed onto the my finger. I held the butterfly up high and it tried to take off but it was off-center and couldn't fly. I carried it up to the house, knowing it wouldn't live long. I began to enter the house to show K the poor thing but it was terrified--fluttered wildly-- so I stood on the porch with it until it was almost still. Then I thought: this beauty wouldn't want to die on a human's hand, so I put it on a boxwood branch from the shrub in the pot at the entry to the porch. It moved a bit. Then it was still. I went inside. I left it to Mother Nature.

Thank you for my Dharma lesson today, Sago.

May you all be protected from the storm.

I don't know who took this photo. It was sent to me in an email without credit to the photographer. I've seen it on various blogs, but was unable to find out who actually took the photograph. Most mothers can identify with the desire to protect their young from the dangers of life. At some point we have to let go and let them fly on their own, but the desire to protect is always there.

First Days

2011-08-16T06:26:00.000-07:00

Daily Dhamma
We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it - and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lid again - and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore. ~Mark Twain, Pudd'nhead Wilson's New Calendar, Following the Equator, 1897

From this ~

To this ~

If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ~Edgar W. Howe

Mason started preschool yesterday. His big sister, whose school doesn't start until next week, walked him out of school at the end of the day. Mason declared he liked it.

The Girl Who Played With Fire

2011-02-07T13:56:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
Never idealize others. They will never live up to your expectations. Don't over-analyse your relationships. Stop playing games. A growing relationship can only be nurtured by genuineness. ~Leo F. Buscaglia

Twelve in Twelve
The Challenge: Read 12 books of 200 pages or more in 12 months. That's one book per month.
The Timeframe: January 1, 2011 to December 31, 2011.
The Reason: Studies have shown that reading helps keep your mind healthy and active. The mind you save may be your own.
Books I've Read So Far:
~January~
Patient Zero by Jonathan Maberry
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

~February~
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

The second book of Stieg Larsson's trilogy surrounding Lisbeth Salander was a bit of a slog for me. I enjoyed The Girl Who Played With Fire enough to finish it, but there were portions of the book that were tedious and repetitious. The central character of the trilogy is compelling. She is at once vulnerable and lethal. A brilliant girl who suffered horribly at the hands of her father and then the clandestine system that did all that it could to keep her quiet.

I know I'm late to this dance. Most people who enjoyed these books, enjoyed them last year or the year before, but I'm always a bit late when it comes to reading. In fact, I watched the Swedish version of these books in film first. Rarely have I said this, but I did like the films better. They were abbreviated versions of the books, that grabbed the important details of the story line, but left out much of the extraneous detail. I highly recommend the movie versions and give a thumbs up to the books also for those who like intricate plots and diabolical characters.

I will read the last of the books at some point, but I'm turning to something different for awhile.

People who treat other people as less than human must not be surprised when the bread they have cast on the waters comes floating back to them, poisoned. ~ James Baldwin

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

2011-01-15T15:35:00.001-08:00

Daily Dhamma
I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity. ~General Dwight D. Eisenhower

Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. ~Winston Churchill (speaking about the Royal Air Force

Twelve in Twelve

The Challenge: Read 12 books of 200 pages or more in 12 months. That's one book per month.

The Timeframe: January 1, 2011 to December 31, 2011.

The Reason: Studies have shown that reading helps keep your mind healthy and active. The mind you save may be your own.

Books I've Read So Far:
~January~
Patient Zero by Jonathan Maberry
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

I have a lot of unread books in my house. The photo at the bottom of this entry is just one stack of several stacks of books I own scattered about my house, but have not yet read. It appears that I am a far more fervent book buyer than book reader.

One of the books that remained "en stack" was The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society co-authored by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, which I finished reading early this morning.

For such a short, easy read, I learned a lot about the suffering of the English people during WWII, especially those on the little island of Guernsey, a British Crown Dependency. The book was not at all what I thought it would be. First, there is not one recipe in the whole of it. Second, although the story unfolds in a series of letters written between a young writer, Juliet, her publishers/editor, friends, and the members of the Society, the letters paint a lively and beautiful description of the events. Third, and most ashamedly, I had no idea that Guernsey even existed, let alone had been occupied by the Germans during World War II.

The book was first and foremost entertaining. I would not have completed it if it had not been. But it was far more -- it was educational and gave me much food for thought about the extremes of humanity. I highly recommend it to those who haven't already read this wonderful book.

Back to the issue of unread books. I do not know why I am compelled to purchase books when I don't have the clear resolve and intention to read them. While my friends have profited from this character defect of mine, it has done little to expand my mind or my pocket book. For that reason, I've broadened the challenge to read a book a month over the next twelve months to either reading all the books in my stacks over the next twenty-four months or getting rid of them. I won't commit to finishing a book I'm not enjoying. I'm just not that much of a masochist.

TGLPPS has been in the stacks for at least eighteen months, maybe as long as two years. Such a gem. Several hours of pleasure right at my hand being ignored month after month. It makes me wonder what other treasures are waiting to be mined.

This particular stack of books is over-represented by Dean Koontz. I'm not a huge Koontz fan, but was given one of the books and purchased the other after reading Brother Odd, which I enjoyed. It's a sequel. Another book got added to the stack today. It's a book about dogs: Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know by Alexandra Horowitz. I found it tucked on my windshield, left by some anonymous donor, after I came out of a meeting this morning. The stack grows larger on its own even without my out-of-control buying habit.

Books can be dangerous. The best ones should be labeled "This could change your life." ~Helen Exley

Twelve Books - Twelve Months: Book One - Patient Zero

2011-01-11T17:33:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
"Souls are poured from one into another of different kinds of bodies of the world." ~Jesus Christ in Gnostic Gospels: Pistis Sophia

Twelve in Twelve

The Challenge: Read 12 books of 200 pages or more in 12 months. That's one book per month.

The Timeframe: January 1, 2011 to December 31, 2011.

The Reason: Studies have shown that reading helps keep your mind healthy and active. The mind you save may be your own.

Books I've Read So Far:
~January~Patient Zero by Jonathan Maberry

I finished reading my first book for the 12 books in 12 months commitment. Real readers laugh at the idea of only 12 books in 12 months since they often go through 12 books in just one month, but for me it's a legitimate goal.

I've always enjoyed reading, but modern day life is not conducive to the activity. There are far too many distractions. Even our news programs are not content to have an anchor giving us the news; they have to have one or two boxes on the bottom of the screen telling us all about the horribles happening elsewhere. I am a product of the Internet age, addicted to distraction.

So, I signed up for the commitment as a way to read more and to do less at a time -- not do less overall, but to do just one thing when I'm doing one thing. When I read, I read.

One of the things I like to do when I read is to read something that one of my family members is also reading so we can discuss and digest together. Usually it isn't going to be something Sherry reads because her taste in books is far more intellectual than my own. My son, however, can be counted on to suggest something of absolutely no social redeeming value that will pique my interest. We set about looking for a book at the beginning of January and stumbled upon Patient Zero.

Patient Zero is written by Jonathan Maberry. Frankly, I'd never heard of the guy, not really being a horror fiction buff, at least not since my early Stephen King days. Oh, yes, an occasional Dean Koontz novel would come my way, but (and no offense to Koontz fans out there), if you've read one Koontz novel, you've read them all. I found the same to be true of Patricia Caldwell. Sorry.

Anyway, back to Patient Zero, which can be summed up thusly: Multi-lingual, martial arts expert, former military, current cop, non-hestitating killer in a clinch, sensitive hero is recruited by an secret-secret agency of the government to battle the living dead created by Middle East terrorists who partnered with an evil pharmaceutical company genius.

Maberry is an entertaining writer. The book is packed with action, has enough medical information in it to make the "walkers" believable and to make me now add to my list of ridiculous things that keep me up at night: fatal familial insomnia (a real affliction).

I recommend this book for people who like lots of action and don't mind a bit (okay a lot) of gore.

Perspective and Gratitude

2011-01-10T11:24:00.000-08:00

Savanah is in the process of putting together notes for a short speech for Houchin Blood Bank. They are having their annual dinner and have asked Savanah to talk about how blood donations affected her life when she was going through cancer treatments. She asked me if I knew her relapse dates. Of course, I didn't have them memorized, but I did have them memorialized in my diary. I went back through and found the dates and as I glanced at the entries, tears welled up in my eyes -- tears of gratitude and compassion.

Here is a quote from my May 21, 2006 entry:

Now, for the perspective part. Just down the hall from Savanah is a nine year old little girl. She has been battling leukemia since she was two. She relapsed three times before they transplanted her. She is in her 25th day post bone marrow transplant and her blood counts are still perilously low, but creeping slowly upwards.

There is a five month old baby on the ward whose parents have all but abandoned him. He cries and when one of the nurses are available, they hold him and walk him in the hallway.

Every room on that ward contains a story of heartbreak and hope. Every room is connected to a family that is suffering and trying to find a way to survive what has hit them.

We aren't the only ones and we aren't the worse off by any stretch of the imagination.

Perspective is a good thing, even when it is gained from the heartbreak of others.

If you see a whole thing - it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives... But up close a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern. ~Ursula Le Guin

Savanah with her 21st Birthday Cake

Just Right

2010-11-21T08:30:00.001-08:00

Daily Dhamma
Mistakes are part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way. Unless it's a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from. ~Al Franken

I had a friend who, whenever he was asked, "How are you" (which everyone knows is supposed to be answered by "fine," unless you're in a 12 step program in which case you go into a litany of issues and problems that are unsolvable, even by god), would answer: "just right."

He as always just right. If the roof of the house was caving in upon him, he was just right. If he was dying from lung cancer (which he was), he was just right. While I appreciated the philosophy behind his standard answer, always accompanied by an enigmatic grin, I often wanted to respond to him, "Oh yeah, well your ass is on fire." If I had, he have done a mental drop and roll, pop back up and say, "Ta da! You see, Linda, it isn't life that creates happiness or unhappiness, but our reactions to life."

We get to live, we get to learn, we get to make mistakes and still be just right.

Mama Bear, from Three Hungry Bears

You've Got to Be Carefully Taught (or Not)

2010-11-18T08:27:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
At the heart of racism is the religious assertion that God made a creative mistake when He brought some people into being.
~Friedrich Otto Hertz

"You've Got to be Carefully Taught" from the musical "South Pacific," lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
and people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!

But, then again, maybe not!

Here's an article on research that suggests that bias is built into us. Rather than to be taught to be prejudiced against things and people who are different than us, we really need to be taught to overcome our innate prejudices: We Might Be More Racist Than We Think We Are. I believe there is a lot of truth to this theory. I know I've had to work on acknowledging my own prejudice. Even today and even with the multi-racial make-up of my family, I have to admit I would probably be more alert meeting a dark skinned stranger on the street than I would a light skinned stranger, more cautious of people with tattoos than those without, and the list goes on.

I remember with great shame one occasion when I went to get gas in my car very early in the morning. It was still dark. A young black man with dreadlocks started walking towards me and I immediately reacted by getting back into my car and locking the doors. He looked very sad and turned and walked back to the building portion of the gas station. When my gas was finished pumping, I went to the building to pay for the gas. The young man was sitting just outside on the cement. He looked up at me as I passed him and said, "I wasn't going to hurt you lady."

He was clearly homeless and probably looking for some change -- maybe wanted to offer to clean my windshield or something like that. I would have been nervous if it had been a young white man coming at me that early in the morning too, but there was an extra edge to it and I had to acknowledge that to myself.

Now I understand that it is a dangerous world out there and we should be cautious, but racism hurts. I could see the hurt on that kids face. I'm sure he has encountered that same reaction hundreds and hundreds of time in his short life. We need to be cautious, but we don't need to be ridiculous.

We need to carefully teach ourselves to overcome our immediate bias and get beyond it -- and this goes for people of color getting over their biases against Caucasians as well. Whites do not have the corner on the market of racism and prejudice.

Tolerance.org

Speaking of being carefully taught, daughter-in-law, Tai, is a teacher in an at risk middle school. A very high percentage of the students in the school are black or hispanic and many of them are poor.

Tai and some other teachers have developed an after school program for young girls who are having problems. They call it "The Homework Club," which I think is a really cool name that sounds positive, rather than punitive. They are having some great results with the girls.

Anyway, the girls don't just do homework. The teachers offer them opportunities they may not otherwise get, like tea parties, career days, and so forth. Tai asked me if I would come and give knitting lessons to those girls interested. I don't know if any of my knitting readers remember when you learned to knit or if you've ever tried to teach someone else, but teaching one person is a challenge -- teaching a bunch of teen girls is a huge challenge.

I put the request out to my knitting friends who donated money for knitting needles and made offers to help. Most of us have yarn enough for an army so we didn't have to purchase any fiber. Four of us went to the club yesterday and divided the girls up into groups of four each. We spent about an hour an a half teaching them to cast on and do the knit stitch. By the end of that time most of them were catching on and none of them wanted to leave! They all wanted to stay and work more on their skills.

We will meet with them again next Monday to improve their skills and those who stay interested will eventually be given the knitting needles they are working with an enough yarn to make a simple garter stitch scarf. They seem pretty excited about it and all of us who helped them were jazzed as well. There's nothing like bringing new blood over to the Dark Side of Knitting Addiction.

Dia de los Muertos

2010-10-31T07:21:00.000-07:00

Daily Dhamma
We experience three deaths. The first is when we die. The second is when we are buried. The third is when we are forgotten. ~ Unknown

This is the altar me and my friends had on display at the Bakersfield Museum of Art at last year's Dia de los Muertos celebration. There were several altars on display and I think I can say without too much bias that ours was as good or better than any of them.

The experience was cathartic, healing, emotional, transformational, fun, and exhausting. Every item on our altar has a story.

Day time view right after we finished setting up the altar and before the exhibit opened.

Night time view with the crew behind the altar.

From the top left, this mini altar has an old Tonka earth mover I found at a second-hand shop. My dad was a heavy equipment operator, so I thought it appropriate to show him getting up on one. Notice the little red bandana around his neck. Dad was a hard worker, but he was also a boozer, so I added an airline size bottle of whiskey.

Below, inside the box, are a photo of Mom, Dad and my brother, Butch, together with a small bowl of candy (we are all candy eaters in my family), and little skeletons of my brother with Mom at his side. The right-hand photo shows a close up of Mom and Butch that I took at the house before putting them on the altar. Notice her little skull purse. Mom liked to shop. Butch is reading a newspaper. I thought it appropriate to place them together because Butch was Mom's favorite.

The bottom photo shows the mini altar to all our lost critters: Ginger, Rusty, Toke, Blade, Trouble, Stella. On the top of the altar is the little fish pond for my friend's lost koi and several small "street dogs" to represent all the lost and abandoned dogs. At the foot of the altar is a small bowl of kibble.

Dogs

2010-06-24T16:37:00.000-07:00

Daily Dhamma
Our dogs will love and admire the meanest of us, and feed our colossal vanity with their uncritical homage. ~Agnes Repplier

I really love dogs. The dogs in my house (four of my own and two that belong to Erica) provide me with company, they do not question my authority, and they are always glad to see me. If I leave for five minutes or five days, they act the same when I return: You're back! Praise God Almighty, you're back!

I love other people's dogs too. My friend, Mike, has four pugs, Boris, Bella, Betty, and Bosco. I really love his pugs. My daughter has two dogs, Maddie and Mikey. Savanah has Jelly Bean. My friend, Suzan, has two Schnauzers, Sophie and Zach. Sophie is the Emissary of Love. Zach is autistic, but will sit on your lap if you don't push him. I love all of them. I sometimes carry tiny dog biscuits as treats just in case I run into a new best friend.

If I meet you for the first time and you have your dog with you, the odds are that I will remember your dog's name, but may not remember your name. It isn't that I don't care about you. I just care about your dog more.

You just gotta love this face ...

Cassius

This is my son's family dog, Cassius. You will not find a sweeter tempered dog in the entire northern hemisphere. He's such a galoot. He loves to play with the kids and thinks he's a lap dog when I come around. I just adore him. Precious guy.

Minnie

Minnie has been very sick. Last week I took her to the vet about a limp she had. She was due for a vaccination -- one of those four-in-one types -- so I agreed to her having that as well. $600 later it was determined that she had no major bone or joint issues. She probably just bruised herself and would heal in time.

When I brought her home, she wasn't herself. I attributed that to the anesthesia they had to use in order to get x-rays of her legs. She still wasn't well the next day and refused to eat. That was Friday. Saturday she wouldn't eat. Sunday she wouldn't eat. Monday I took her to the vet again. From last Thursday to Monday, she lost 1/10th of her body weight. The vet suggested she had a virus and prescribed some anti-nausea drugs and Pepcid. That was another $150. The drugs didn't seem to help. The next day I began force feeding her Pediolite. I felt like I was water boarding her. That evening I got some doggie ensure and began force feeding her that as well. Finally, yesterday evening she began eating.

I think the four-in-one vaccine made her sick. I've been doing some reading on vaccinations for dogs and many think that there is no need for them after they've had them a few years and, in fact, there can be severe adverse reactions. Minnie is eleven years old. She's had many vaccinations, but no more, other than rabies, which is legally required. That is the last one of those 4-in-1 for her or my other dogs.

Ricky Bobby, Baxter, and Schmitty ...

are now housed in these things at night, which allows us all to sleep more soundly...

Then there is Bella, who looks a bit sick here, but is really just in her usual "Don't Bother Me, I'm Sleeping" position.

And last and least (in size, anyway) is Little Bit ~

Little Bit (aka Leetle) weighs three pounds, is ten years old, and has cataracts. There is nothing to be done about it, unfortunately. She is completely blind in the one eye and the other one is becoming clouded over. She does okay as long as she's in familiar surroundings, which is always except for the other day.

Someone entered my back yard and left the gate open. Four of the dogs got out, including Leetle. I panicked, I have to admit. I went running out yelling for the dogs and here comes Leetle, pitter-pattering her way across the street to the sound of my voice. The rest of the dogs required a major round-up effort. I never could locate Minnie while I was out there on foot. I came home to get my bike and go out again and there she was, looking forlorn, on the front porch. I almost cried with relief.

After I calmed down, I went to the hardware store and bought locks for the gates.

I know there are people out there who don't like dogs. Some people are afraid of them. I don't hold that against them, but they aren't likely to ever be invited to my home. And, if you are a person who doesn't want to be saddled with a pet, then you probably aren't the kind of person I'd want to hang out with at all.

Pets give us far more than we can ever give in return, but it requires a bit of selflessness to have a pet and if you can't be bothered, well, then you probably wouldn't be there for me either in a pinch.

What's the Point?

2010-05-20T10:05:00.001-07:00

Daily Dhamma
"In its broadest sense, learning can be defined as a process of progressive change from ignorance to knowledge, from inability to competence, and from indifference to understanding.... ~Cameron Fincher

Not to say that I always get it right. I don't. I get it wrong lots, but I want to talk a little bit about a grammatical error -- usually spoken, not written -- that is like fingernails across a chalk board to me.

I know you are really, really smart. You may even have majored in English, but let me give you a little lesson in legal idioms:

Moot Point vs. Mute Point
Think cows and kittens. It sounds like moo with a t on the end of it, not mew with a t on the end of it. Go for the cow, even though kittens are far cuter.

A moot point may sound reasonable, but it no longer matters. In fact, it might never have mattered. It might be intellectually titillating to continue the debate, but the argument is settled or the situation is beyond redemption. For instance, you want to go to Paris, France, but your spouse wants to go to Venice, Italy. Neither of you have a job and you live in a trailer in the back of the house your mother owns because you can't pay rent. You aren't going anywhere, so the debate about whether to go to Paris or Venice is moot.

A mute point? Well, I don't know exactly what that does. Maybe it's just a look, because it cannot be verbalized, being mute and all. Perhaps it has something to do with television remote controls and the mute button. Maybe you're on a conference call and you've hit your mute button on your phone so the other conference attendees can't hear your dogs barking wildly in the background. Something comes up that you decide to comment on. You make your statement, but you've forgotten to release the mute button. The situation gets resolved without your input, thereby making your point both moot and mute.

I'm not just writing this to vent. I'm writing this so you will know and quit saying mute point when you mean moot point, because when you use the phrase incorrectly you sound a bit like an ignoramus rather than the intelligent, articulate person that I have come to know and love.

Feel free to call me on any of my shit. Fair is fair.

Golden Rules and Other Broken Things

2010-02-02T11:18:00.000-08:00

I've noticed that I am not following my policy of judgment without condemnation. I understand that policies are a little like ideals -- we can't always live up to them -- but they are necessary to have to keep us from rutting in the streets and refraining from other obnoxious behavior. Lately, though, I get a little too invested in other people's behavior. It was fortuitous, therefore, that this message came to in my email this morning from Tricycle:

February 2, 2010
Tricycle's Daily Dharma
Someone Else's Happiness

Sometimes we feel a need to be proven right as we look at someone else’s life choices; it is not that they are necessarily doing anything wrong or hurtful, but they may be living in a different way than we have decided they should be living. Or perhaps our advice turns out to be unappreciated or incorrect, as mine was, and we come face to face with the fact that someone’s happiness does not revolve around us and our fabulous prescience and good sense; instead, it is based on their own good sense, or even on sheer good luck. Can we let go of our need to try to dominate people’s lives and our determination of what the correct outcome of their decisions should be?

- Sharon Salzberg from "A More Complete Attention" (Winter 2009)

Sometimes, though, other people intrude into my life in ways that call for me to have an opinion, even if I would really love to mind my own business. That is, someone has made something my business whether I like it or not. Someone has invited my view, my opinion, my concurrence. If my view doesn't result in concurrence with that person's thoughts on the matter, I have to let go of my need to try to dominate people's lives and my determination of what the correct outcome of their decisions should be.

Ms. Salzber says elsewhere in her Tricycle article:

Making the effort to truly see someone doesn’t mean we never respond or react or take very strong action to try to settle the matter of dinner. We can and do attempt to restore a failing marriage, protest loud cell phones in public places, or try, with everything in us, to rectify injustice. But we can do it from a place that allows people to be as textured as they are, and that admits our feelings to be as varied and flowing as they are. A place open to surprises. A place that listens, that lets the world come alive.

We live in a results oriented world. If we do the work, we want to see our work come to fruition. There isn't anything wrong with that except when the work does not come to fruition. When our protests over loud cell phones, injustices, people taking more than their share of time, money, goods, comes to naught. That, my friends, is when the true test of our mettle is taken. Can I sit with the disappointment without turning my back on the world or becoming a mope?

In AA there is an often quoted spiritual axiom that goes something like this: Anytime I am disturbed, no matter what the cause, there is something wrong with me. This truism is an attempt to keep the alcoholic from falling into the role of victim and to take responsibility for his or her own feelings.

No matter what the cause! That's strong and leaves absolutely no loop hole for the weasely me to use as an escape. No matter what the causes or conditions are, my feelings are my responsibility. That doesn't mean that other people do not sometimes behave in selfish and unbelievably loutish ways. It does not excuse crappy behavior in others. It means that I get a choice to feel like a victim and wallow in despair over others' behavior or I can allow myself to feel the hurt or disappointment, learn from it, and then let it go.

Getting to this place that Ms. Salazar talks about -- being open to surprises -- has allowed me have other policies, like not writing people off forever, understanding that we are all fallible, forgiving even when forgiveness has not been requested, speaking my truth and then allowing others to follow their own.

But, as I said, policies are like ideals and I don't always live up to them. I do remember, however, what my policies are and I get back to them as soon as I am able ... or as soon as the pain of not following them gets to be too much.

I love getting comments, but unfortunately, I've had to start moderating. I rarely get comments and lately they've all been from spammers. Better for me to moderate them than have others read them before I can delete 'em.

Droid

2009-11-14T08:12:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
Veni, Vidi, Velcro. I came, I saw, I stuck around. ~Author Unknown

Knitting is a boon for those of us who are easily bored. I take my knitting everywhere to take the edge off of moments that would otherwise drive me stark raving mad. ~Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, At Knit's End: Meditations for Women Who Knit Too Much

Yolie found a website that gives instructions on how to knit a perfectly fitting sweater. She said it was going to be easy-peasy. It is, provided you have a degree in higher math and can tolerate sitting through instructions. I hate instructions. I throw them away, which can cause great havoc in my life, but also makes life interesting.

Anyway, Yolanda, Patty and I had some good laughs taking our measurements, after which I recommitted to a diet.

In other news, I want one of these ~

It's the Motorola Droid distributed by Verizon. I just know that if I have one my life will be much easier, I will become enlightened, probably lose that weight I need to lose, my complexion will clear up, my sinuses will become unclogged, and I will write a best seller. I promise not to throw away the instructions.

I mentioned this on facebook and one of my favorites there and here went out and got one! Arrrgh! The phone envy I am enduring!

(Yes, I can be extremely materialistic when it comes to new gadgets. And yarn.)

Tiny Dancer

2009-11-06T22:07:00.000-08:00

Daily Dhamma
There are short-cuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them. ~Vicki Baum

Today is my friend, Terry's, birthday. We've known each other for a long, long time and have only come close to killing each other once or twice.

Many years ago -- almost thirty -- Terry told me that her secret desire was to take ballet lessons. As far as I know, she never did, but she might have. I'm older than she is and my memory is not nearly as good. I made this little ballerina for her out of wire, buttons from an inherited button jar, scrap material, and matchsticks.

Happy birthday, dear friend.

Past Lives, Present Practice

2009-10-12T09:34:00.001-07:00

Daily Dhamma
It is a secret of the world that all things subsist and so not die, but only retire a little from sight and afterwards return again… Nothing is dead; men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful obituaries, and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some new and strange disguise. ~ Emerson (The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson)

This past weekend, I, my sister, Karen, my daughter, Sherry, and my friend, Maureen, went to a seminar in Sacramento put on by Brian Weiss, M.D. I'm not sure exactly what I expected, but the experience wasn't as great as I had hoped.

Dr. Weiss wrote the book Many Lives, Many Masters and several subsequent books on the concept of reincarnation and past life regression as a tool to heal present day problems. I read Many Lives years ago and found it to be utterly compelling. I was particularly impressed with Dr. Weiss's bonafides. He did not seem like the typical New Age guru, but a man who was a skeptic and scientist who became convinced through treating a patient, that she was having actual past life memories and memories of the "in between" times -- between rebirths. Fascinating.

I enjoyed Dr. Weiss's talk. He has a gentle demeanor, with a slightly self-deprecating sense of humor. I believe that he believes. I believe also that the experiences he writes and talks about actually occurred. What I found off-putting was his hypnosis experiments and attempts to "regress" a thousand people in the audience and then picking out people to share their experience. Some of the people seemed sincere and believable, others just sounded like nutlogs who wear tinfoil hats at home.

All in all, our group agreed that we could accomplish more through our own meditation practices. I found this quite comforting -- that I don't need a guide to gain self-awareness.

We did not stay for the last two hours of the seminar. We'd all had enough of the group activities and opted to start the five hour drive back home.

Twenty Pound Thoughts

2009-09-24T12:46:00.000-07:00

The idea of mindfulness meditation is to bring the mind back to the present moment (we use the breath as our "present moment"). Sometimes it is relatively easy and sometimes it is quite difficult.

When our mind is racing with anxious thoughts (as opposed to the normal mind-chatter we all experience unless we are asleep), it's like the difference between lifting five pound weights at the gym versus twenty pound weights. We may not be able to lift the twenty pound weights as often, but we get more benefit from the effort.

So, the mind is racing with worry or regret. That's our twenty pound weight. Each time we are successful at bringing the mind back to the breath (present moment), we have just gained spiritual muscle. Maybe in a 20-30 minute session, we are only able to bring the mind back a few times; the rest of the time is spent struggling in the future or past. That's okay. With practice, we eventually are able to rest longer in the present moment. With continued practice, we gain equanimity in the face of any circumstance, recognizing that "this too shall pass."

When it's easy, it's easy. We may not have brought our thoughts to the present moment any more frequently than when it is difficult, but they are five pound thoughts, not twenty pound thoughts. They are thoughts about what to have for lunch, when we are getting our nails done, fun projects that we want to start. We end our session thinking, "oh, wasn't that relaxing and lovely," which is all well and good, but the real spiritual work happens when it isn't easy, when we are working with twenty pound thoughts. When we begin our "sit" with, "I don't want to do this; I can't do this," and end with "Damn, that was hard," but we've done it anyway.

Petunia 5324

2009-09-16T13:24:00.000-07:00

When I moved my business to my home, I purchased a couple of second-hand desks for the office. I sit at one, my sister at the other. Call me Ms. Observant, but it wasn't until the other day when I was rummaging around in the middle desk drawer that I noticed "Petunia 5324" neatly written in pen on the pencil tray.

Who is Petunia? Is she still alive? Does anyone name their children Petunia anymore? What is the significance of 5324? Is it an extension? A password? A phone number? An address?

Whatever the signficance of Petunia 5324, it was important enough to write it indelibly where few would see it and even fewer (e.g., moi) would notice. I've probably been in that drawer a dozen times a month over the past few years and only noticed it recently.

How much about our mundane lives is important to anyone but ourselves? We go through our lives with blinding speed, leaving little evidence, once we are gone, that we ever existed. Perhaps spending a few moments wondering about Petunia 5324 isn't such a bad thing.

Alone With Others

2009-09-03T07:52:00.001-07:00

Daily Dhamma

Human beings are endowed with the capacity and the ability to love. For love to happen we need to be able to recognize the other, to relate to the other. Love necessitates connection. It requires of us that we see something or someone beyond us. It is easy for us to be locked into our inner world: our emotions, our thoughts, our sensations, our body, our mind, our problems. Because we identify so much with the conditions that make us we often limit ourselves to these. We become locked inside ourselves and are the poorer for it. We feel isolated and separate. One dimension of ourselves is indeed of aloneness. Nobody can feel our pain or our problems for us. However, through the breath, the clothes we wear, the food we eat, the medicines we take, the houses we inhabit, we are inevitably and intimately connected to the whole world. We are inescapably alone with others. ~ Martine Batchelor

Savanah watching the waves come in at Morrow Bay.

August

2009-08-03T10:43:00.000-07:00

Years ago I read an essay by Roger Rosenblatt – an incredibly gifted writer who, among other things, wrote for Time Magazine and PBS. The essay was about the dog days of summer. From Mr. Rosenblatt's essay I gleaned a "found," free form poem. I drag this poem out every August when I'm feeling weighed down by heat and malaise.

August

It's the sound,
don't you think?
The low whir
that could be a breeze on a hedge,
until you realize
that there is no breeze
and that you live in a high-rise.

So
it must be a generator someplace,
or an old fan
with rubber blades.
The sound.
Definitely.

Maybe
it's the light:
the way it slants like a guillotine
on a dark wall,
or fills the moon
so that it glows meekly
like a pale bruise on the night.
Of course.
The light.

Or
is it the heat?
Could be the heat too;
dead-quiet heat,
seems to arise
from inside your head,
which feels funny these days,
wobbles a bit,
like a loose chrysanthemum.

Or
the empty space:
streets wide as runways,
houses flat against the white sky.
Where did everybody go?
It's the space,
don't you think?

White lies, social lies, and big fat lies

2009-07-23T15:01:00.001-07:00

Good Things

1. Today is my son's birthday. I know it is a sad day for another blogger friend, but both sons are to be honored today.

2. My house is clean, thanks to Savanah and Erica.

3. Family is coming over for dinner.

Daily Dhamma
One of the most compelling things about the Buddhist view of suffering is the notion, inherent in the Wheel of Life Image, that the causes of suffering are also the means of release; that is, the sufferer's perspective determines whether a given realm is a vehicle for awakening or for bondage. Conditioned by the forces of attachment, aversion, and delusion, our faulty perceptions of the realms -- not the realms themselves--cause suffering. ~Mark Goldstein and His Holiness the Dalai Lama

Sin has many tools, but a lie is the handle that fits them all. ~ Oliver Wendall Holmes

First of all, I readily admit that I have told some whoppers in my life. I have embellished and outright lied, even when the truth would have worked better.

There was a time in my life when it was perfectly acceptable for me to stretch the truth if I thought I was going to benefit somehow or at least not make my situation worse by being truthful. Having been raised in an alcoholic home, the truth didn't come easy for any of us. It was just too damn painful.

But that was long ago. I learned a better way of being in the world. Eventually I even developed a fairly good moral blueprint for life. That blueprint kept things simple. One of the ways that life is much simpler for me is to be truthful. So that's my policy: be truthful. I goof up from time to time. I'm only human, but my policy is to be truthful, even if it isn't seemingly to my advantage.

I get this wonderful magazine called Tricycle, a Buddhist review. It contains articles on the Buddhist perspective, and offers a look at the dharma (truth) from many different Buddhist traditions. One of the perks of the on-line version of this magazine is that you can receive in your email a little bit of dharma every day in the form of the Daily Dharma. It's free. I encourage any of my readers to subscribe to the service. (It is also different from the Daily Dhamma that I sometimes post on my blog -- I dig up these quotes on my own.)

This is a recent quote from Daily Dharma:

Telling your hostess she looks divine may or may not be true but it's kind. She doesn't really want to know that you think she should never, ever wear that shade of blue. You can sidestep an outright lie with a vague comment like, "What a color!" "How chic you look!" In your heart you'll know the truth.

Some people are incapable of telling lies. They stake their reputation on saying exactly what they think, no matter whose feelings are hurt in the process. But candor without wisdom or compassion diminishes both sender and receiver. Kindness, on the other hand, bathes everyone in a positive light. Even the Talmud endorses the well-intentioned fib: "You may modify a statement in the interests of peace." ~ Joan Duncan Oliver, Good Karma (Duncan Baird Publishers)

I was truly befuddled to see it suggested that we engage in white lies in the interests of kindness. This is dharma? Not in my book. Of course, Ms. Oliver is justifying her advice by referring to a different book -- the Talmud (which isn't Buddhist at all) -- but she seems to suggest that the choices are limited to telling a white lie or hurting someone with the truth in the situation given.

Most of the time life isn't an either/or proposition. Most of the time, even in social situations, we can choose not to speak on a certain subject rather than be disingenuous. For instance, rather than commenting at all on the hostess's appearance, how about simply saying, "Thank you for inviting me. I'm glad to be here," assuming that's true and, if it isn't, then just being there is a lie.

A white lie generally is not more acceptable than the truth; it certainly doesn't build good karma. Even a white lie of "necessity" comes with a price. If the truth would hurt, ask yourself if it is necessary to speak it at all. If it is, then do your best to be kind, but leave lying to the direst of circumstances.

What is a dire circumstance? Someone's life is in the balance. For instance, during WWII many kind-hearted Germans hid Jews in their homes and helped them escape Germany. The deceit they committed saved lives and kept the Nazis from racking up even more bad karma. In extreme situations such as this, the good clearly outweighs the bad.

Another example of a dire circumstance is when you are dealing with someone who is clearly unbalanced and telling the truth may put the person in danger of complete mental melt down. In that situation, save the truth for a time when they can better handle it.

"A well intentioned fib" those social lies that are completely unnecessary and that are used to lubricate ourselves through the door are not dire circumstances. There is simply no excuse for them. Besides, for whom is the lie well intentioned?

Those who think it is permissible to tell white lies soon grow color-blind. ~ Austin O'Malley

Sometimes we cannot help but hurt others with the words we say. Sometimes we are compelled to speak even though we would prefer to stay silent and we know that what we say cannot be swathed in gentle words. Sometimes we need the impact of being straightforward to be fully felt. A sharp "no,"for example, yelled at a child about to stick something in a electrical outlet. Or, when someone will not accept silence and demands to know what is on your mind.

In other instances, no matter how kind the words you use, there will be painful consequences. For instance, you are charged with the duty to tell someone that one of their loved ones has died. There is no way that news can be delivered in a way that will not cause pain and grief, perhaps even disbelief.

I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies. ~ Pietro Aretino

Life is wonderful, but it is often brutal. Lying and accepting what you know are lies from others keeps us in a deluded state and creates negative karma.

Some people will not tolerate such emotional honesty in communication. They would rather defend their dishonesty on the grounds that it might hurt others. Therefore, having rationalized their phoniness into nobility, they settle for superficial relationships. ~Author Unknown

He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual. ~ Thomas Jefferson

The biggest danger in white lies is eventually it separates you from your friends and family.

He lies so much, he has to get a friend to call his dog. ~ American colloquialism

When people become habitual in their well-intentioned fibs and white lies soon those around them wonder if they can ever trust what they are saying. It's like being around someone who is constantly deluded and wants to drag you into their delusion.

You cannot have friendship without trust. You cannot have a friendship with a person whose moral policy makes it perfectly acceptable to lie. You can have acquaintance, but there is no friendship among liars.

The Boy in the Green Shirt

2009-07-10T10:03:00.000-07:00

He caught me spying on him attacking Aubrey.

He turned his attention on me. I was skeert.

Don't be fooled by that cute face!

Four

2009-07-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

Here are four of the four-leggeds that currently live with me. Two more four-leggeds were not cooperative in having their photos taken. You can't blame them though -- they were on the run when I found them.

The Fourth of July celebration at my friends', Joe and Suzan, home was really fun. The view of the fireworks displays was perfect, the weather more than bearable, the food was scrumpdillyumptious, and the company outstanding. I laughed so hard with David and Yolanda. I do believe that David lays awake nights trying to figure out ways to prank people or just make them laugh.

Four news events I'm already sick of: Michael Jackson (rest in peace already!), Gov. Mark Sanford (I burned all of my old love letters), Sarah Palin (waiting for her book to come out, The Big Bathroom Book of Political Clichés), and the economy (put the world on suicide watch).

Four things I'm grateful for this morning: An excellent night's sleep, F&Fs (family and friends), a lazy day ahead doing whatever I damn well please, and air-conditioning.

Craving Control Chair

2009-06-25T11:02:00.000-07:00

I'm an evening forager, foodie, snacker. From the hours of around 6 o'clock to 9 o'clock, I get restless, bored, lonely, or whatever, and then cravings come up. In the past, I've allowed those cravings to overwhelm me. I'd give in almost immediately. Anything to make that discomfort disappear.

All the while the discomfort was disappearing, my ass was getting broader and broader. Not a good sitcheashun when you already have a ginormous ass to start out.

Learning to utilize mindfulness vis a vis my eating has been a challenge and one that seems to be working for me ... finally. One of the greatest hints I got from Pavel Somov's book eating the moment. Meet my Craving Control Chair.

Just knowing I have it has reduced my actual cravings. I don't even have to sit in it -- I can look at it and say to myself, "It's just a damn craving. This too shall pass."

Oh, that cool blankie on the back of the chair is a project I just completed -- an adaptation of an Interweave Crochet pattern. Me likey.

Getting Real

2009-06-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

I came from a dysfunctional family. Big deal. So has practically everyone else I know.

Dad was a practicing alcoholic up until his old age and Mom was a practicing nutlog up until her death.

One of the effects of living in this environment was confusion, the inability to determine fact from fiction because amid all the unpleasantness of home life, I was assured that nothing was wrong. Everything seemed wrong to me. Dad drunk, Mom yelling at him and blaming her unhappy life on being stuck with him because of the children. "What's wrong," I'd innocently ask. "Nothing is wrong. Go outside."

Nothing is wrong. Everything is peachy. Little wonder that I ended up in bad marriages. Bad was all I knew and bad was peachy. We were crazies looking for other crazies so we could continue the type of homelife we knew.

Eventually, there was a turning point in my emotional and spiritual life. I changed dramatically and began to question the drama, the lies, the unwillingness to tell the truth, the clinging to fiction.

This is just background, but is important in that my history informs me. It helped mold the person I am now: A person with a low tolerance for bullshit. A person who often speaks her mind because I'd rather have the unvarnished truth than be fed a line of crap.

I've been advised that I need to make my words sweet. This is what how one on-line dictionary defines "sweet talker":

Noun 1. sweet talker - someone with an assured and ingratiating manner;
charmer, smoothie, smoothy, dissembler, dissimulator, hypocrite, phoney, phony, pretender - a person who professes beliefs and opinions that he or she does not hold in order to conceal his or her real feelings or motives

I've been told by others that it is my willingness to speak the truth, whether they like it or not, that draws them to me.

There is an in-between place, a Middle Way, that can be practiced. Learning to be kinder in my presentation is an on-going challenge. In the meantime, I'll just have to get over the loss of a few friends and comfort myself with the dozens that are left.

Michael

2009-06-15T09:06:00.000-07:00

My son, Michael, walked across the stage to get his ceremonial diploma at Cal State University Bakersfield, this past Saturday. In typical Michael fashion, he did it his way -- laid back and casual.

Michael, I'm so proud of you. Like your good old mom, you've not always done things in the proper sequence, but you've got them done.

Now, here you are, a grown man, an educated man, a family man.

After the ceremony, Tai and Michael treated their family to a lovely breakfast featuring French Toast Casserole.

In the "too bad" category of things, it's too bad that the economy is such a mess and job prospects are challenging, to say the least. It's too bad that the commencement speaker was an old liberal coot who did her best to ruin an otherwise perfect morning. It's funny now, but I thought for sure the old conservative coot sitting behind me was going to go into apoplexy.

But, dear son, you are up to the challenge of this job market. You definitely have your priorities right. You done good, Michael. I love you and thank you for the honor you bestowed on me.

Pulling away

2009-06-11T11:26:00.000-07:00

Good Things

1. Savanah may have a volunteer job at the local Ronald McDonald House.

2. More cool weather, leaving me with no excuse for not taking a bike ride.

3. For the people, places and things still in my life.

I find myself pulling away from people, places and things lately. It is also true that there are some who are quite happy to see me go. It is better for me to pull away than to struggle trying to be what I am not, but I have to examine my own behavior and attitudes.

Never let anyone rob you of your peace, and do not steal away the peace of others by your verbal misbehavior. ~ Journey To Self-Realization by Paramahansa Yogananda
There is no possible way for me to communicate so as to never rub anyone the wrong way, but I do recognize that I have a large area where improvement can and should be made. As I was told long ago, if more than three people think you are a horse's ass, you'd better saddle up.

I am the type who is prone to speak my mind. As a result, sometimes people suffer from my outspokenness, while others might feel they benefit from it. It takes more skill than I currently have to always intuit when to speak up and when to stay silent. That's why God (or who/whatever) invented erasers. When I'm wrong, I can at least apologize.

I've had a lot of pressure and heartache lately. The economy is finally beginning to hurt my business and, more importantly, another dear and cherished friend died recently after a long illness. As a result, I've been edgy and often close to tears. This edginess does not help one bit my ability to practice patience, especially with those who I perceive as chronically unhappy.

So, I need to change my perceptions and my actions. The so-called chronic malcontents are suffering, just like I am hurting now. There are ways to not endorse whining without cutting someone off at the knees. Isn't there?

Besides, who the hell am I to judge others -- I am so flawed myself.

I also recognize that some of this pulling away is appropriate and there is a certain relief that goes with it. I don't want to have to struggle to fit in. If it feels right and natural for me to be a part of a group, then I wll join in -- if it doesn't, I'm opting out for everyone's sake.

Le Sigh

2009-06-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

I'm filled with existential angst today. Another dear friend died -- a man that I have known for almost thirty years.

His name was Al Hendricks. He was an icon in the local "sober" community. He helped many "boys" become men through his common sense approach to sobriety and his adherence to principles of recovery designed by 100 men and women long before Al decided to get sober.

Al was not a man to blow his own horn. He took the adulation of others in stride, without making anything of it one way or the other. I think that's a pretty good definition of humility.

Al leaves his wife, Karen, five children, several grandchildren, and hundreds of people who looked to him for his wise and simple guidance.

I'm not sure there is a heaven, but if there is, Al is there.

Rest in peace, dear friend.

One Whole BirthDAY

2009-06-03T07:53:00.001-07:00

Happy Birthday, Mason!

Good Things

1. Mason had a birthday on May 30th.

2. My friend, Robin, had a birthday yesterday.

3. Today is the second anniversary since Erica moved in with me. She's still sober and a productive member of society.

Daily Dhamma

We tend to be particularly unaware that we are thinking virtually all the time. The incessant stream of thoughts flowing through our minds leaves us very little respite for inner quiet. And we leave precious little room for ourselves anyway just to be, without having to run around doing things all the time. Our actions are all too frequently driven rather than undertaken in awareness, driven by those perfectly ordinary thoughts and impulses that run through the mind like a coursing river, if not a waterfall. We get caught up in the torrent and it winds up submerging our lives as it carries us to places we may not wish to go and may not even realize we are headed for.
Meditation means learning how to get out of this current, sit by its bank and listen to it, learn from it, and then use its energies to guide us rather than to tyrannize us. This process doesn’t magically happen by itself. It takes energy. We call the effort to cultivate our ability to be in the present moment “practice” or “meditation practice.”

~ Jon Kabat-Zinn, Wherever You Go, There You Are

You had to be there

2009-05-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

You had to be there the past ten years in order to fully appreciate one fragile little girl walking across the stage to receive her diploma. You had to be there all those years to fully appreciate the sheer determination of this child to get an education, to succeed, when the odds were stacked against her.

The Bakersfield Californian did a nice article on Savanah, but it would take a book to understand thoroughly Savanah's grit and what it took to get her there last night.

Like the months of wasting away from chemotherapy; like the time she became completely paralyzed after an overdose of methotrexate; or the complete loss of her memory post bone marrow transplant; not being able to make choices for herself; the feeling of alienation and the loss of her youth; the hair loss; the infections; bone damage. A good day was simply pain and nausea without some other bizarre and unforeseen complication.

I chronicled the first three years when Savanah was first diagnosed with actue lymphoblastic leukemia in a blog. The second and third times I was too exhausted emotionally to write about it. We were all in survival mode, just doing the next indicated thing.

When Savanah walked across that stage, it was like flipping a huge finger at what fate seemed to have in store for her. Some of us had recommended that she take the GED or go to adult school, but Savanah was determined to graduate from Bakersfield High, where she started. It wasn't easy. Academically, she had her memory problems to overcome; socially, she just did not fit in. She was light years ahead of most teenagers in terms of life experience. She had spent the last ten years of her recovery in the company of adults. It wasn't a good fit.

But she had her champions. Her mom, Sherry; Daddy Martin; Grandpa Alex, Grandma Jerri, and Grandma Linda. There were all the wonderful teachers who homeschooled her when she couldn't attend regular classes; Mr. Duke and Ms. Dobbs from Savanah's Quailwood school days; and Mrs. Price -- God bless Mrs. Price -- Savanah's highschool counselor, for her huge doses of encouragement and TLC this last year.

There are so many others. Maybe not a caste of thousands, but certainly a caste of hundreds. Friends, family members, employers, on-line friends, businesses who heard about Savanah and just decided to pray for her or help the family out financially.

So here she is now, a high school diploma in hand and ready to tackle college. When others say, "It's too hard," Savanah says, "Not if you take it a day at a time."

Congratulations, Savanah! I love you!

Go Me!

2009-04-24T16:16:00.001-07:00

Good Things

1. Stunningly beautiful day.

2. Morning chats with Erica.

3. Watching Aubrey play t-ball.

4. Mr. Mason, the Cheerio eating kid.

I was talking to a friend this morning about mindful eating. We are both working on being more mindful about all that goes into why we eat. She said she found that when she was doing a lot of tending to her best friend who was dying, she ate much more -- that she was salving her emotions with food.

I told her an emotional eater too, but it didn't take anything so dire as someone dying to make me emotional. I get emotional when the mail is late.

True.

When my emotions get to the despair stage, I don't eat at all, but up to that point, I'm a conveyor belt carrying food into my giant maw in an attempt anesthetize my pain. Most of the time you would not know it by my demeanor because, well, hell, the food works.

The problem is that the food is now creating health problems so I have to find a way to deal with the Great Existential Angst some other way: Mindfulness.

So far, it's working. The clothes are getting a little looser and I'm not carrying around a butt load of guilt because of overeating.

Go me.

Going green isn't what it used to be!

2009-04-22T09:46:00.000-07:00

Good Things

1. Eating mindfully.

2. Strawberries are in season.

3. Having access to clean water.

So, I guess it's Earth Day today.

I received an email today from vibrator.com. My spam filter filtered it out, but I always check the spam box because sometimes it filters things out that should not be filtered out: Go Green! Commemorate this Earth Day with a Green Toy!

I am alternately grossed out and amused. I don't know whether to gag or giggle. Hey, wait a minute! Don't take that the wrong way.

In other news, it appears that I have been experiencing "silent" or "painless" migraines. Who knew that such a thing even existed. It seems like the words "painless" and "migraine" are mutually exclusive, but they are not.

I've had several symptoms, the most disconcerting of which are visual, sort of geometric scythe like shapes and mental confusion. The image to the right is the closest I could find on the Internet to what I was seeing during these episodes. Very weird. As to the confusion, sometimes I cannot find even the most simple word. I understand completely what is going on, where I'm at, etc., but the words escape me. It doesn't last long, but it made me think I was developing early dementia. I guess I'm relieved that it is merely a symptom, along with nausea and other things, of migraines.

It is been unseasonably and hellishly hot here the past few days. The weather is supposed to get cooler by the weekend. In the meantime, the dogs and I are staying inside. Erica and I gave Schmitty a haircut. What an ordeal! He was not at all cooperative, but now that he's been clipped and is used to it, he seems to be enjoying himself.

It's a bird, it's a moth, it's a ...

2009-04-19T19:38:00.000-07:00

hummingbird moth, aka flying mouse.

Maureen was over this morning with another friend, George, and two of his children. We saw what we thought was a hummingbird in the sage, but it had antenna and a moth like body. It was about the size of a hummingbird and it beat its wings rapidly like a hummingbird as it dined on the nectar from the sage flowers. What a beautiful and amazing creature!

My friend, Richard, who is a biologist, said that you can pick them up and they'll sit right in your hands. I wouldn't want to try to do that -- I'd be fearful of hurting it.

The following is a photo I got of the same creature on my kitchen window screen this morning.

In with the new!

2009-04-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

Good Things

1. The new furniture was delivered. Me likey.

2. Developing new habits.

3. A short visit with my son and grandson. Mason is like a little monkey or koala bear, the way he clings to his daddy. The two of them together are adorable beyond words.

In with the new in more than one way. The old furniture is gone and the new furniture is here. As you can see from the photos, the dogs approve.

My sister, Karen, and I spent a few backbreaking hours moving the last of the old stuff out and then arranging the furniture in a way that would work in my living room. You should have seen the two of us old ladies wrangling an oversized recliner into the back of Karen's truck to take to my friend, Terry. Push, push, pull, pull, pant, pant. It was like giving birth.

I have to say I really appreciated the comments I received on my "Eating Zombies" entry. Thank you all very much.

Stacey called about a week ago and said she had a dream that seemed to move her to start a support group for people who want to stop eating like pigs at a trough, but without particular diets and without religion. I told her I was on board! There are several people who are interested. We are having our first face to face meeting today. We have a google group set up for those who can join us at those meetings.

I have so many friends on the Internet and in real life who cannot attend the meetings, but who also want to develop new habit patterns. It's always easier to do this with support. There are several places on the net for just this purpose, such as The Camp System, the Joy of Mindful Eating.

I belong to an Internet community where I've had a journal for over ten years. Amazing that I've done anything for that long without giving it up, but the friendships I developed there are just as real to me as the ones I have in real life. Anyway, I asked these friends if any of them would like to have an email support group for Mindful Eating and several of them said yes. If anyone reading this entry would like to be included in that group, please let me know. You do not have to attend the face to face meetings to be on this email group.

There will be no weigh-ins, no special diets, and no dogma.

Men and women are all welcome.

Eating Zombies

2009-04-13T08:38:00.000-07:00

Good Things

1. A beautiful day ahead.

2. This morning's meditation.

3. My family.

Newsie Bits

My living room is relatively empty. I purchased a new couch, chair, and love seat that won't be delivered for a few days, but the opportunity to get the old out presented itself yesterday. I kind of like the empty look.

My taxes are done and I only owe an additional $700. Me be happy. (This news prompted the first newsie bit.)

I've really been struggling with my weight and eating. I'm larger now than I have ever been. I've tried Overeaters Anonymous, Weight Watchers, Southbeach, Atkin's, raw food, whole food, veganism, the fruit diet, the potato diet, the cabbage soup diet. I've even tried the no diet diet where you eat whatever the heck you want, as much as you want, until you reach a point where you no longer have to do that because you've addressed all your deprivation issues. I've tried it all, so don't leave me a note saying, "have you tried this?" I have -- at least anything that is remotely reasonable and some that aren't so reasonable. I don't want to hear about another new diet. Trying one more time and failing is too demoralizing for words.

People who have chronic eating issues typically have tried it all. Some of us even go so far as to have surgical intervention. I've thought about that drastic measure, but am unwilling to take the risks inherent with surgery. Further, most of the people I know personally who have had surgical intervention initially lose a ton of weight and then eventually put a majority, if not all of the weight back on. I know there are exceptions, but cost/benefit ratio is not worth the risk as far as I'm concerned.

I'm not giving up, but I'm not fighting it anymore. I'm going to try to be mindful of what I eat when I'm eating -- kind of like the "when you walk, just walk" approach.

Pavel G. Somov, Ph.D., writes: For most of us, eating is a mindless, unconscious, reactive compulsive, automatic, mechanical, thoughtless, habitual hand-to-mouth activity. We are, in a manner of speaking, eating zombies.

That's me. Hello, my name is Linda and I'm an eating zombie.

I don't need a bunch of step work. I don't need to come to Jesus. I don't need yet one more diet that is guaranteed to make me lose ten pounds in a week. I need to be mindful.

A friend of mine who is likewise a food addict and wants to try the mindful approach called me yesterday on her way home from a weekend mini-vacation with her hubby and another couple. They'd spent the weekend in a virtual food orgy; they were all high on sugar and determined to stop at Ben & Jerry's on the way home for one more for the road. They were laughing and joking about their eating binge and said they were going to eat the book I'd recommended on mindful eating.

Her call was like a kick in the gut. I couldn't figure out why I reacted so negatively to her call -- the laughter around their binge eating. In my meditation this morning I realized that her call reminded me of when Sherry was still drinking and she used to call me when she got loaded, talking nonsense and wondering why I didn't want to chat it up with her.

Yes, it was just like that. It was like being the only sober person in a room full of drunks.

I know I'm going to laugh about it later -- mostly at myself -- but right now it isn't funny. It's scary.

Mindful eating is very, very, very hard work. Just eating my bowl of oatmeal with walnuts and bananas this morning in a mindful fashion was damned difficult. I wanted to get on the Internet, read a book, watch the news. I'm addicted to distraction as much as I am to food.

I know I'm going to have set backs, but I'm going to try to take it a meal at a time and when I eat, just eat, being mindful of why I'm eating and mindful of the process of eating.

In words and pictures

2009-04-09T08:31:00.001-07:00

This is a photo of a drawing Savanah did of her dog, Jelly Bean. All the lines are words -- sentences like, "I love my Jelly Bean. Jelly is the best dog in the world," etc. Even the areas that appear to be filled are layers of words. When she showed me a photo of the drawing (I haven't seen the original yet), I said, "Hey, that's pretty darn good." When she told me how she did it, I was a bit in awe. I believe she told me she won honorable mention for the drawing when her art teacher entered it into some sort of competition.

Savanah has the tiniest handwriting! She hasn't always had such tiny handwriting; it is something that developed as a compensation after years of chemotherapy. Her hands shake badly. She has more control when she writes smaller.

A funny story about her and her tiny handwriting is that her chemistry teacher gave the class a sheet of 8"x11" paper with a grid on it. The area within each section of the grid was about an inch and a half. She told the students that they could use it to make notes for an up-coming final and that they could actually use those notes, and no other, in the final.

Well, Savanah practically had an entire thesis of notes on that one sheet of paper. Naturally, she aced the final.

Anywho, just thought I'd share that little tid bit with you.

In other news, did you know that knitting can make you smarter? Yep, 'tis true.

Watch CBS Videos Online

I'm weird? No, you're weird!

2009-04-08T09:05:00.000-07:00

My friend Terry asked me a few weeks ago if I would drive her to the airport this morning. Of course, I told her I would. Yesterday she said she'd call me this morning to remind me. Great, she'll remind me; I can put it out of my mind, and put it out of my mind, I did.

Terry called just before 5 a.m. and I thought it was my daughter, Sherry, calling me because she said something I would say, "It's dark-thirty. Are you awake?" So, thinking it was Sherry, I mumbled something about her being a little shit for calling me at that time of day and that I'd call her right back. When I called her back, naturally she didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

Me: So, what did you want?

Her: What do you mean, "what did you want"? You called me.

Me: No, you called me.

Her: I didn't call you.

Me: Yes you did.

Her: No, I didn't.

Me: Yes, you did. Quit screwing with me.

Her: You quit screwing with me. You're weird.

Me: No, you're weird.

Her: I don't know what you're talking about; you are freaking me out.

Me: Okay, whatever ...

Her: Wait, don't hang up ...

... then it hits me.

Me: I'm sorry, it was Terry who called about taking her to the airport. I forgot all about it!

Her: What? I thought you'd lost your mind.

Me: It's possible, but I still have to drive Terry to the airport.

I called Sherry on my way to take Terry to the airport. We laughed and laughed. Then she asked to talk to Terry wherein I'm pretty sure they conspired to put me in a home for the aged.

So, the moral to this story is that if you call me early in the morning, the first thing you should do is identify yourself ... unless you want to screw with an addled old lady. :)

Thoughts on rules and authenticity

2009-04-03T08:39:00.001-07:00

So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you.... ~ Matthew 7:12 (NIV)

Everybody isn't you; and everybody doesn't want to be treated the way you do. In my opinion, a strict adherence to the Golden Rule can be a bit arrogant -- an excuse for trying to foist your point of view, life style, or desires on others.

So, how about the Platinum Rule?

Treat others the way they want to be treated.

This may be good as a business paradigm, but not so good translated into your personal life unless you want to spend time as a people pleaser and martyr.

You see, you can't please everyone, so you gotta please yourself. [See lyrics to Rick Nelson's "Garden Party.]

The ultimate excuse for selfishness! Pleasing isn't what it's about. If I'm in this thing to please, then I'm really just looking for a fan base.

A tension exists between self-concern and concern for others. It is a balancing act. Compassion is an art form learned over many years and does not include enabling or sacrificing your own well-being for others. At least, that's my view of it.

All these rules aren't really rules. They are guidelines. Wisdom allows you to understand when a line has been crossed between authentic caring and martyrdom and it signals you when you are involved in selfishness.

Sometimes authentic caring for others means you have to tell someone they are being an ass and sometimes it means you spend the time you wanted to watch "Law & Order" listening to a friend's problem.

Sometimes authentic caring for yourself means acknowledging that you don't have the answers for everyone. It is an acknowledgment that continued work with an individual will not help them and just might make you sick.

Knowing when to hold on and when to let go is the key. Excessive clinging is the stuff that Lifetime movies are made of.

Becoming your authentic self is sure a slow process.

World Baby Wrestling

2009-03-30T16:17:00.000-07:00

This will not be of any interest to anyone except the most gah gah baby lovers, but I wanted to post it anyway since it's my blog and I can. So there.

I babysat for Mike and Tai this weekend. Thankfully, Aubrey came along because what you observe here is what grandma would be enduring had not Mason's big sister been there to play with him.

I get exhausted just watching them! Sometimes when I'm holding Mason, he turns in my arms like a cork screw on crack. He is a very, very active child and a dare devil!

I told Mike that they were going to have to try to turn it down a notch with him otherwise he would be an adrenalin junkie (if he isn't already).

In other news, Reba's memorial service was Sunday. About three hundred people crowded into a room large enough for half that many to pay respects to the family. The service was touching and funny and uplifting. I was honored that Leon, Reba's husband, asked me to officiate since, as he said, "Reba wouldn't want any damn altar calls." :)

Everyone who participated in the service did a great job. I think Reba would have been humbled and shocked to see so many people there to honor her. She wasn't the kind of woman who sought recognition -- that's probably why she got the recognition. There are plenty of us who want to be like her when we grow up.

Good Things

1. It's Monday, so tonight I get together with my meditation peeps.

2. Stunning weather. So wonderful that I'm making the doglets stay outside.

3. My buddy, Stacey, is back from a ten day sit at Vipassana. She's the only one who will allow me to call her in the really, really wee hours of the morning to discuss spiritual philosophy.

Reba Cox ~ Rest in Peace

2009-03-26T08:32:00.000-07:00

My friend Reba passed away this morning around 4 o'clock. Her husband, Leon, said that the time didn't come as a surprise since that was the time of day that Reba usually was up and in her favorite chair reading spiritual material.

Reba's long vigil is over. She lived a good life. She will be missed.

Mostly-Dead

2009-03-24T11:19:00.000-07:00

Reba is still alive. She is barely alive, but alive. Her blood pressure is so low it cannot be measured. She no longer has any urine output. Her breath is so weak as to be almost non-existent, but it is still there -- barely. It is important to note that she is not suffering. She is not struggling. She is well-medicated.

I apologize to those of you who find this horrifying, in poor taste, or unsympathetic, but I think Reba would crack up. Seriously. She would. When I was talking to Leon this morning (Reba's husband) and he was describing what was going on with Reba, my thoughts went to Miracle Max, the character played by Billy Crystal in "The Princess Bride."

The story goes that Princess Buttercup is being married off to an evil prince. She and Westley are secretly in love. Westley decides he has to save her and hooks up with Ingio Montoya who wants to avenge his father's death at the hands of the evil prince. Westley is poisoned on the way to save Buttercup. Ingio Montoya brings Westley's body to Miracle Max in the hope that he can bring Westley back to life.

For those of you who have not had the privilege of seeing "The Princess Bride," it is an absolute must-see. One of my all time favorites. Watch it before you are mostly-dead.

Westley: Why can't I move? Why am I up against this wall?
Fezzik: You've been mostly-dead all day.

I've thought a lot about death during my lifetime. I'm grateful that my thoughts and beliefs have evolved beyond what they were when I was young. Having only been exposed, albeit with no regularity, to fundamentalist Christianity where the only options after death were either heaven or hell, of course I was fearful. The criteria for getting into heaven seemed undoable and the criteria for getting into hell quite easily met. In fact, getting into hell was like falling off a log.

To get into heaven it wasn't enough that you were a relatively good person, who did the occasional good deed and cared about others. The real qualifier was that you suspended all disbelief and accepted the virgin birth, the semi-god-like status of Jesus and his assigned task to save the rest of us. You had to accept that Jesus was your personal Lord and savior. You couldn't just say it -- you really had to believe it. Once you believed, really and truly believed, all was forgiven and you got your ticket in to the most exclusive gated community ever imagined.

Blech. I wasted far too much time trying to square the tenants of Christianity with rational thought.

Reba's belief system took from various faiths, but mostly from the teachings of Jesus, the man, not the Son of God, who advised all of us solemnly to look for the light within. She was not and is not afraid of death. She found the light within and believes she will come back again. I don't know if she will or she won't, but I do know that now that she's mostly-dead, that light will comfort her wherever her journey takes her.

The good things are the simple things

2009-03-23T10:42:00.001-07:00

Good Things

1. See below.

2. Blue skies.

3. The smell of wisteria.

This is a silly little foot stool that a friend gave me for the granchirren to enjoy. Baaaaaaa!

This is Ricky Bobby, looking rather regal.

This is Ricky Bobby in the sheep foot stool. Erica opened it up, he jumped in and decided he liked it as a hidey place.

This is Erica being attacked by Schmitty.

This is Erica getting the best of Schmitty.

This is Schmitty exhausted after the wrestling match with Erica.

This is Erica getting her birthday cake yesterday.

This is Grandpa Alex feeding Mason cake. Mason likes cake. I sometimes call Mason, "The Little Round Headed Kid." He reminds me of a Charlie Brown character.

Back in the Day

2009-03-12T09:20:00.000-07:00

Reba and I on my first sobriety anniversary ~ 11/29/80. Reba is on the right.

I got a call this morning that Reba is getting very close to the end of her time here. She has had a number of health problems the last few years. Recently, those problems have accelerated. She would rally and we'd all think she would make it and then something else would happen. The latest -- a stroke -- occurred just the other day. This time it doesn't look as if another rally is possible.

Through it all I've been fairly philosophical about it. After all, I do consider myself at least a quasi-Buddhist and fully acknowledge that all things atrophy and eventually die. That philosophical attitude has allowed me to meet the news of Reba's problems with some equanimity.

Today was different. Today it was painful. I started thinking about how much of a role Reba has played in my life for almost thirty years. How gracious and accepting she has been with me.

I am struggling not to cry. She has been a good friend. I have learned from her, I love her, and I will miss her.

The Big Sit

2009-02-24T15:10:00.000-08:00

Good Things
1. A long walk in beautiful weather.
2. Holding a sick friend's hand.
3. Fresh veggies delivered to the door by my sister.

The Buddhist Review: Tricycle magazine is sponsoring what it calls The Big Sit. It is a commitment to sit in meditation for at least 20 minutes each day and to follow the precepts. Although the talks and writings have a definite Zen slant, you do not have to be a Zen Buddhist or a Buddhist at all to participate.

I encourage any of you who have indicated an interest in meditating, to give this a go. Even if you don't do it perfectly, trying will bring great benefits. Go here to join the community: Tricycle Community

Find more videos like this on Tricycle Community

Everything is Temporary

2009-02-12T11:02:00.000-08:00

Good Things

1. Grandchildren.

2. More rain in the forecast.

3. Friendships.

I think I'm getting used to me. Even though I'm not writing about it much here (what with all the knitting and painting and other stuff to write about), I'm in acceptance mode about aging. This photo was taken yesterday using Photo Booth on my MacBook. I'm not wearing any makeup other than a little lipshit.

When I was meditating yesterday morning I had one of those ah ha moments. I usually wake up on the natch before dawn's crack begins to show. I make coffee, do a little reading, then meditate at 5:30 a.m. Yesterday, I didn't wake up on the natch, but was awakened by the sound of Leetle barking. She doesn't like to be alone. If she's in the bedroom, she'll bark until I come in there. If I'm in the bedroom and she's in the living room, she'll bark until I come in there. Yes, she has me trained.

Anywho, when Leetle started the wake up and get your ass in here call, it was already past 5:30 a.m., so I stumbled out of bed into the living room, pulled out the meditation cushion and began my "sit." I was still in that groggy, half-awake state, which seemed a bit like cheating on the meditation. Meditation really is work. It is not a passive experience.

As I was sitting there trying to pay attention to my breath, paying attention to my state of being (drowsy), it occurred to me that much of what I had considered to be a love experience was really a fear experience. I was reminded of that line from Robin Norwood's book, "I measured the depth of my love by the degree of my pain."

The pain is from fear. Fear of losing something you desire. Fear of not looking good enough, or being sexy enough. Fear of being alone. Fear of financial insecurity. Fear of being judged by others because you don't have a life partner.

I'm not sure I knew what love was absent the want. Whenever I have the want, it comes equipped with the fear of not getting what I want or getting it and then losing it. That's where those really strong feelings kick in that I mistook for love. Those really strong feelings weren't love at all, but terror.

One of the reasons I show who I am now with such brutal honesty -- I don't lie about my age or doctor photographs -- is that I don't want what I had in relationships. I don't want friendships that are created around some myth of who you think I am. I don't have the desire or energy for being anything other than my unapologetic self. A dear friend has gifted me with several photographic portraits of me. He carefully airbrushed away my wrinkles and put me in the softest light. I looked as smooth as a Barbie doll and just about as real. I don't want that for me. I want to be real, even with my thinning hair and aging skin.

I really like the freedom that this new old me brings.

Either that or I'm just talking out my ass. More will be revealed.

Savanah has been sick. The whole family, other than Erica and myself, has had some sort of creeping crud or the other. When the rest of us get sick, it's a pain the arse, but no big deal. When Savanah gets sick, the fear stabs us like a dull blade in the solar plexus.

More than anything I want Savanah to be able to grow old, to work through the aging process just like I'm doing.

Dealing with a life-threatening illness for most of her life has robbed Savanah of so much, but it has also put her into an accelerated learning program about our fragile and temporal natures. You can pack a lot of living into a short amount of time if you are not afraid, but that fearlessness must come from an acceptance of reality, not deluding yourself.

I still have a long way to go.

Bearly Done

2009-01-26T15:05:00.001-08:00

Pig-Bears and Fingerless Mittens

2009-01-26T09:49:00.000-08:00

I finished Sherry's mittens. I like the way they turned out, although I didn't make them long enough. Sherry just wanted the bare tips of her fingers to show.

I wanted to make make Mason a teddy bear. I'm not all that ept at bear making because the bear looks more like a pig with fur. Here it is sans a leg. I'll finish it up sometime this week.

Pudding Meditation

2009-01-22T10:17:00.000-08:00

Good Things
1. Bagels slathered in organic peanut butter and topped with sliced banana.

2. Unexpected rain.

3. Little Grasshoppers.

Brown Rice Pudding ~

be aware and in the moment
as you cook one cup of organic brown rice
according to package directions
(it is important to be willing
to follow directions)

when the rice is done
spoon it loosely into a nine by nine baking dish
allowing it to cool as you
preheat the oven to 350 degrees

and

carefully break four eggs
from cage free hens
into a bowl
-- this part brings your awareness
to how short the cycle of life
can be at times.
anicca, anicca, anicca
(impermanence, impermanence, impermanence)

beat the eggs with a whisk
noticing the sensations in
your hands and arms
add one and a half cups of organic milk

measure a dollop of pure vanilla extract
into the egg mixture
add a bit of sea salt
add cinnamon to taste
whisk the mixture a bit more
and note the smell of the vanilla
in your nostrils

blend in one cup of splenda (or sugar)
one-third cup (or less) of oat bran
chopped walnuts to taste
raisins to taste

pour mixture over the rice
and stir a bit more in the baking dish
so that the ingredients are
evenly distributed

place baking dish in oven
and bake for 45 to 50 minutes

sit
wait
eat

Progress, not perfection ...

2009-01-19T20:42:00.000-08:00

I'm coming along on the fingerless gloves. They are a bit flawed because Sherry wanted a long wrist band, and I'm not used to teensy-tiny needles; but being flawed, they won't offend the knitting gods. Only the knitting gods do things perfectly. Here's what I've got so far ~

I got a book with patterns for crocheted critters. This is what Aubrey wanted me to make her ~

The little chick lifts out of the bottom part of the shell. :)

Speaking of Aubrey (and perfection!), here she is giving her baby brother a kiss ~

Orphan Moya Fingerless Mittens

2009-01-16T08:45:00.001-08:00

I have to admit that I'm like a monkey. I see a bright bit of color and I am attracted to it. These cute little fingerless mittens are offered at the ABC's of Creative Pursuits. You pick out six different yarn cards for the eclectic look and get them and the pattern in a fun tin box for only $18.00, yo!

The photo is borrowed from the Creative Pursuits website.

The shop is moving to a bigger location in the same building. They are adding things like cross-stitch and needlepoint, as I understand it. The new location is not only bigger, but has lots of windows for great light.

Sis and I went to the shop yesterday and started our mittens with the help of Bonnie, who taught us the magic loop cast-on method for two socks or mittens or whatever you are doing two of. She's a great teacher and the lessons were cheap! Thanks, Bonnie!

In other news, early last year I reserved a Smart Car. After months and months, I finally got a notice to configure my car. It could be months and months before it is actually delivered and I still can back out of the deal before then. This is what my Smart Car will look like, if I get it ~

Smart fortwo passion coupe

The car gets about 45 mpg on the road and over 30 mpg in town. The gas prices are low now, but they will not stay low, of that I am sure. If I just based my consideration of purchasing a Smart Car on gas prices, though, it would not be a financially smart move. I can buy a lot of gas for my Murano for what the Smart Car costs. I'm thinking of the environment also and what I can afford down the road as a retiree, if I ever actually get to retire.

Oh, today is my sister, Karen's, birthday. Happy birthday, Sis!

So, with that, happy knitting to all and to all a good day.

Touch Anything At Your Own Peril

2009-01-15T10:57:00.001-08:00

The following righteously indignant message is brought to you by Grumpy Linda. :)

I was driving from Bakersfield to Los Angeles by way of I-5 one day. It must have been late spring or early summer because the grass on the mountains was still green and miles and miles of hillside were covered in bright yellow blossoms. Mustard plant, I was told. It was not indigenous to the area, but was planted by biologists to help with the problem of erosion after fires devastated the area. The mustard plant took over and crowded out other native plant, becoming a problem in itself. Or so I'm told by a wise biologist. He then said, "Most environmental problems begin as solutions." Case in point ~

By MICHAEL CASEY, AP Environmental Writer – Tue Jan 13, 9:18 am ET
BANGKOK, Thailand –

It seemed like a good idea at the time: Remove all the feral cats from a famous Australian island to save the native seabirds.

But the decision to eradicate the felines from Macquarie island allowed the rabbit population to explode and, in turn, destroy much of its fragile vegetation that birds depend on for cover, researchers said Tuesday.

Removing the cats from Macquarie "caused environmental devastation" that will cost authorities 24 million Australian dollars ($16.2 million) to remedy, Dana Bergstrom of the Australian Antarctic Division and her colleagues wrote in the British Ecological Society's Journal of Applied Ecology.

"Our study shows that between 2000 and 2007, there has been widespread ecosystem devastation and decades of conservation effort compromised," Bergstrom said in a statement.

The unintended consequences of the cat-removal project show the dangers of meddling with an ecosystem — even with the best of intention....

That sort of situation also happened in the southern San Joaquin Valley where farmers killed off coyote with poison. The dead coyote were eaten by scavenger birds, which also died. The area then became overrun by rabbits and other crop-eating varmints.

You see the same sort of sequence of unintended consequences in politics, religion, and education, etc.

We don't think things through. The rabbit population explosion on the Australian island should have been a foreseeable consequence of killing off their natural predators. I'm sure the brilliant minds that came up with killing the cat population will come up with a "solution" to the rabbit population, which, in turn, will create yet another environmental problem.

That old saying, "touch anything at your own peril," is something we should all take to heart.

The modern conservative is engaged in one of man's oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness. -John Kenneth Galbraith, economist (1908-2006)

Process or Product?

2009-01-13T10:24:00.001-08:00

I haven’t painted in a long while (and I’m sure some are quite happy about that considering where my mind takes me), but I feel the urge coming on. Spring is a great time of year to paint. The light is good, the temperature right. Even though we’re still in the middle of winter, I feel spring coming and with that the easels, brushes, and paints coming out.

I finished the Starbuck’s Socks. I’m a novice knitter. Other than a small sweater for my baby grandson, Mason, I haven’t made anything more sophisticated than socks and scarves.

I’ve started at least four sweaters, but abandoned those projects in favor of something simpler and much smaller. Garment making requires is patience. I read in one of my knitting books that any idiot can make a sweater, but even that idiot requires patience. Even after years of practice, I’m low on patience. I’m more of a product rather than a process kind of gal, although I’m trying to find the middle ground.

My friend, Suzan, gave me some yummy sock yarn made by a German company. It’s teensy tiny and will require me to work with itty bitty needles, but I think I’m up for the challenge of process.

Creative Every Day!

2009-01-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

One way of Rut Prevention for me is to work on some creative project every day. I saw this link on one of my favorite blogger's page and thought it was a terrific way to motivate myself ~

My creativity lately has been limited to my abilities. I'm almost done with a pair of work socks I made for Erica ~

Starbuck's Socks

The colors are those found in the Starbuck's stores. The people who work there can wear black, tan, and white. Their aprons are green. I just have to weave in the ends on one of the socks and I'll be finished.

Another creative (for me) thing I've done today is to mix 1/2 cup Greek nonfat yogurt with 1/4 chopped walnuts, two packets of stevia, and 1/2 sliced banana for a yummy breakfast treat.

Sis in the City

2009-01-09T08:04:00.000-08:00

In this first photo, Sherry is paying the toll to go across the Bay Bridge. We had to drop Savanah off in Novato to see her best friend whom she hadn't seen in several years. Turns out we didn't have to pay a toll because there were three of us in the car, but when we crossed the Golden Gate bridge, sans Savanah, it cost us $6.00 to cross. There was no charge for leaving.

This photo is of a very happy and relieved Sherry. When we got into the hotel, Sherry was going to tip the guy who helped us up only to find that she didn't have her wallet. She figured she left it in the car which was going to be parked by the valet any minute. Sherry dashed out to the car to discover her wallet on the sidewalk, in tact, with all the money still in it -- almost $1,000. Talk about good karma!

Sherry hamming it up at one of the entrances to Buena Vista Park.

Sherry's butt is not that big. I'm not saying her butt is big. I'm only saying that the photo makes it look bigger than it actually is. She has a small butt. She's a willow. I wanted to show how gorgeous the park is. If there is a little lawn and a tree or two here in Hometownville, we call it a park.

Sherry being a bump on a log. This family does bump well. :)

Maybe Sherry was a hippy in a prior life (I know I was), but the eclectic and fringe type stuff have always been attractive to her. Mom's Tattoo Shop was her kind of place.

Sherry decided she had to get a tattoo in San Francisco and that this woman had to be the one to do it.

Hey, not for anything, but just because your an artist in a big city doesn't make you a good artist. I was disappointed in this little flower. It's okay, but it isn't great. We have tattoo artists here in Hometownville that make anything done in San Francisco look weak.

This was taken at the transit stop where we waited for the trip back towards the hotel. The photo is quite blurry, but so were we by this time. We met several very interesting people at the bus stop: A young man who was just gorgeous and looked at bit like Hayden Christensen, an angry black man who wanted to argue, a homeless man who warned me after I took his photo to always ask first before taking a picture. I apologized and told him I'd delete it. He said, "No, that's okay. I used to be weird about that kind of thing, but ever since I solved my own murder, I don't mind anymore." I looked at him a moment and asked, "Well, who did it?" He wouldn't say. You can see his backpack to the right of the photo.

Sherry at the entrance of Ghiradelli's, anticipating what she had in the next photo.

Honest-to-God best hot fudge sundae ever!

After a long day, exhaustion began to set in, but it was a contented exhaustion.

... while visions of sugar plums danced in her head....

Hello My Baby!

2009-01-07T10:40:00.000-08:00

Gratitudes

1. Morning coffee.

2. Erica's sweetness.

3. Fresh flannel sheets.

Linda Kay at Twitter

"There are three kinds of men: The ones that learn by reading. The few who learn by observation. The rest of them have to pee on the electric fence and find out for themselves."
~ Will Rogers

Aubrey at age four doing dishes and singing, "Hello My Baby!"

I ran across this video when I was doing to some clean up work on the various websites I have accounts. It made me smile. I hope it makes you smile too.

I have nothing profound to say, hence the silence at my end. Sherry and I did take a weekend trip to San Francisco last weekend. We were typical tourists. We didn't see everything there is to see -- you'd need a week or two for that -- but we saw a lot.

We walked the Haight-Ashbury area. Here are a few photos of the local color at the Haight and other parts of San Francisco ~

We got caught up in a Palestinian protest parade ~

We watched people ice skating at Union Square, including these two adorable girls ~

We ate yummy stuff, including the traditional clam chowder in a bread bowl on Fisherman's Wharf and hot fudge sundae's at Ghiradelli Square.

San Francisco is a dog friendly town. We saw a lot of dogs ~

It was a wonderful trip with my daughter. My feet were sore from all the walking, but all the walking kept me from putting on pounds from all the eating.

On Location

2009-01-03T07:33:00.000-08:00

Sherry and I are in San Francisco. There's free wifi in the hotel room, but when I logged on it required resigning in to many of my usual web places. I didn't bring my list of passwords with me and I don't have them memorized, so I'm only posting here.

We are staying at a "green" hotel on Bush Street. The trash area has a space for plastic and one for paper. All the light bulbs are energy savers. The room key, when left in a little slot near the door, activates energy to the room, so when you leave, taking the key with you, the electricity to the room, the a/c, etc., shuts down.

The accommodations are very nice, but simple. The beds have big down filled comforters, lots of pillows, a firm mattress that most would find just right, but isn't so kind to this old body.

There is a flat screen television, a nice desk, lots of storage room, and the view from this room, of part of the city.

We are on the edge of China Town. The car is valet parked and costs an extra $40 a day to house at some secret location. We were told by the concierge to give them at least fifteen minutes to retrieve the car for us. Add in a tip for each time the car is retrieved, we're probably looking at $50 a day to use the car, but it is still cheaper than taxi service. I'd like to walk most places, but I'm not sure how feasible that will be once Sherry decides where she wants to go.

So, I wake up at my usual early-thirty hour, slip on some jeans and go across the street to a Starbuck's for coffee. Sherry is still sleeping at this time. She looks like an angel asleep; she has her cheek resting on her hands which are in a prayer pose. There is a slight smile on her face.

I look like a piece of crumpled newspaper when I sleep. LOL! How did she get so lucky, this woman who sprang from my womb? Martin must think he is one of the luckiest men in the world.

We dropped Savanah off with her best friend, Kendra, yesterday in Novato. She was beside herself with excitement. They haven't seen each other in years, even though they talk on the phone all the time. Kendra lives in South Dakota now, but is in California visiting her father.

When I get home, I'll post photos.

In 2008 ...

2009-01-02T07:07:00.000-08:00

I wanted to lose weight. I did, but gained it back, plus ten pounds.

I wanted to learn Spanish. I did. I added about five more words to the list of twenty or so I already knew in 2007.

I wanted to exercise more. I did until I broke my toes/foot earlier in the year, which brought a halt to hiking. Inertia set in.

I wanted to quit cussing. I have periods when I do not curse at all, but agitation causes a form of temporary Tourettes, which breaks my purity spell.

The New Year started off in a lovely way. I woke up with a handsome young man in my bed: Mason.

I beautiful-boy-sat while Aubrey, Mike and Tai celebrated bringing in the New Year. Mason and I snoozed through the midnight hour, but we woke up happy and sober. I wouldn't have had it any other way.

1. Eighteen more days.

2. Spending time with family.

3. Reading.

Trudger

Problems, situations, choices

No pain, no gain?

Cool, laid back, and on the path

After the Storm

A simple act of compassion

First Days

The Girl Who Played With Fire

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Twelve Books - Twelve Months: Book One - Patient Zero

Perspective and Gratitude

Just Right

You've Got to Be Carefully Taught (or Not)

Dia de los Muertos

Dogs

What's the Point?

Golden Rules and Other Broken Things

Droid

Tiny Dancer

Past Lives, Present Practice

Twenty Pound Thoughts

Petunia 5324

Alone With Others

August

White lies, social lies, and big fat lies

The Boy in the Green Shirt

Four

Craving Control Chair

Getting Real

Michael

Pulling away

Le Sigh

One Whole BirthDAY

You had to be there

Go Me!

Going green isn't what it used to be!

It's a bird, it's a moth, it's a ...

In with the new!

Eating Zombies

In words and pictures

I'm weird? No, you're weird!

Thoughts on rules and authenticity

World Baby Wrestling

Reba Cox ~ Rest in Peace

Mostly-Dead

The good things are the simple things

Back in the Day

The Big Sit

Everything is Temporary

Bearly Done

Pig-Bears and Fingerless Mittens

Pudding Meditation

Progress, not perfection ...

Orphan Moya Fingerless Mittens

Touch Anything At Your Own Peril

Process or Product?

Creative Every Day!

Sis in the City

Hello My Baby!

On Location

In 2008 ...

Holidaze

Easy Does It, Santa

Memories: Baking Cookies

Friends

A Hard Sit

The Unbearable Cuteness of Being

Ego and Greed

Like Riding a Bike

Evidence of Insanity - Yarn Post

Scorpio With a Hint of Libra

Beauty and the Beast

Bread and Meditation

Why isn't this bigger news?

Birds on a Wire

The Resistance

Compassion

Olbermann on Proposition "Hate"

On the Eleventh Day She Rested

A Good Day