Let It Breath
Stockpiling firewood in the garage today for the eventual return of winter to our home, I found the wood under the tarp to be moist with dew. Evidently, my thorough covering of the pile, from earth to earth on all four sides, caused dew to form and drip upon the split logs of future warmth.
My Dad had taught me back in the day, when I didn't appreciate the lesson, that you must cover just the top, otherwise, the woodpile will behave exactly as mine had. Go figure. Dad was right. Again. Always resistant to his teachings, I guess my mind did keep one ear open to his lessons, perhaps understanding that one day his wisdom would come in handy. I continue to learn from him, finally listening all these days later.
Which got me to thinking. What other teachings did I pick up from Dad?
His passion for gardening. I will never be the gardener my Dad was but every time I'm planting the annual Bok Choy "crop" or the lettuce in the planters that will reap tender greens for a future lunch, my Dad is in my memory. His passion for his garden was legendary.
His extreme love for the outdoors. Not don't misunderstand. He loved the outside but was not extreme. No boarding the half pipe or sweating and bleeding through a triathlon. Not him. But he did like to walk, he did love to camp and he did wax up the old cross country skis at the mere hint of snow. The guy just loved breathing in the fresh air of the out of doors.
His love for sports. His love for competitive sports was infectious. In his latter days, when the eyesight was poor at best, he could be found cuddled up closely to the TV screen, trying his best to not miss any of the action. Fortunately for him, he did finally get to see his beloved Boston Red Sox win a World Series before he passed in 2006.
It is through my Dad that I learned the importance of loyalty. He spent all of his career with one company but more importantly, he spent over 50 years with the love of his life, his wife, my Mom. Such steadfast love, such devotion.
Thanks Dad. You are always in my heart and mind. I have only begun to consider how to live up to the example you have set, particularly, your love for helping others. Like the cover of the wood pile, I need to let the process breath...
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Tears
For those of you who have been following me for awhile, this one is a repeat. While a few years old, its relevance is just as vital now. Thanks for indulging me.
The fog settled heavy on the hills. Clouds bursting with moisture hung like heavy pillows near the tree tops. I looked up with envy as I drove my car around the bend in the highway. Knowing where I was going but knowing where I belonged. Life's distractions tend to overwhelm but once it's a pattern, you don't notice it anymore. Until your own cloud bursts and the flood erodes the roots of life.
Got to get back out there, to smell the dirt and jump the rocks. To open my mind in my hiking trance. To be grooving along so fast, in such a meditative state, that I lose sense of time and being. I float above the blazed path as the roots of life spread deeply in my emerging brain. The rain falls in a steady cadence as my oblivion evolves into a simple understanding.
For those of you who have been following me for awhile, this one is a repeat. While a few years old, its relevance is just as vital now. Thanks for indulging me.
The fog settled heavy on the hills. Clouds bursting with moisture hung like heavy pillows near the tree tops. I looked up with envy as I drove my car around the bend in the highway. Knowing where I was going but knowing where I belonged. Life's distractions tend to overwhelm but once it's a pattern, you don't notice it anymore. Until your own cloud bursts and the flood erodes the roots of life.
Got to get back out there, to smell the dirt and jump the rocks. To open my mind in my hiking trance. To be grooving along so fast, in such a meditative state, that I lose sense of time and being. I float above the blazed path as the roots of life spread deeply in my emerging brain. The rain falls in a steady cadence as my oblivion evolves into a simple understanding.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Free
The chanting was compelling; the soft drumming more so. It was a beautiful sunny day, our first in Sedona for this, our bi-annual sojourn. We had walked up from the upper parking lot at the Buddhist Stupa. There were more prayer flags than I remember in the past. Familiar small ragged ones amidst the newer large ones.
As we reached the Stupa, the light drumming and vocal chanting drew us is. I can't say why, other than the similar emotion felt when I smudge with sage. An automatic reaction to a positive stimulus. As the three souls created this audible magic, my girl and I drew seats on the platform, directly behind them. Eyes closed, I focused on my breath as I took in the wonder.
The monk dressed in traditional garb, had done this once or twice before. Her following of the words in her tattered book were clearly from memory. Like clockwork, she would stand, leave the platform, and approach the Stupa, where the intentions and prayers of millions were inside, radiating their good will to those around. She offered symbolic gifts and rituals before returning to her seat to continue the ceremony.
Feeling lucky to be a close witness to this unveiling, we also fell penned in as the three on the platform were now positioned so our departure was difficult at best. So we sat. We sat as the monk poured a liquid into the others as well as her own hands. They would then slurp it up and put the rest on their heads. This was followed by an offering of what appeared to be a plate of cookies for each. Evidently, Buddha was a fan of Fig Newtons.
Sensing an opportunity, my girl and I both stood and slipped away past the unintended blockade. We were free of the platform, yes, but we also felt a bit freer knowing that the community is praying for us all. Stronger from the brief encounter, we moved forward with the medicine, hopeful we can help others as we have been helped.
The chanting was compelling; the soft drumming more so. It was a beautiful sunny day, our first in Sedona for this, our bi-annual sojourn. We had walked up from the upper parking lot at the Buddhist Stupa. There were more prayer flags than I remember in the past. Familiar small ragged ones amidst the newer large ones.
As we reached the Stupa, the light drumming and vocal chanting drew us is. I can't say why, other than the similar emotion felt when I smudge with sage. An automatic reaction to a positive stimulus. As the three souls created this audible magic, my girl and I drew seats on the platform, directly behind them. Eyes closed, I focused on my breath as I took in the wonder.
The monk dressed in traditional garb, had done this once or twice before. Her following of the words in her tattered book were clearly from memory. Like clockwork, she would stand, leave the platform, and approach the Stupa, where the intentions and prayers of millions were inside, radiating their good will to those around. She offered symbolic gifts and rituals before returning to her seat to continue the ceremony.
Feeling lucky to be a close witness to this unveiling, we also fell penned in as the three on the platform were now positioned so our departure was difficult at best. So we sat. We sat as the monk poured a liquid into the others as well as her own hands. They would then slurp it up and put the rest on their heads. This was followed by an offering of what appeared to be a plate of cookies for each. Evidently, Buddha was a fan of Fig Newtons.
Sensing an opportunity, my girl and I both stood and slipped away past the unintended blockade. We were free of the platform, yes, but we also felt a bit freer knowing that the community is praying for us all. Stronger from the brief encounter, we moved forward with the medicine, hopeful we can help others as we have been helped.
Friday, February 7, 2014
Bless You
Hearing others around me sneeze typically evokes an offer of "God Bless You" or perhaps a less theistical "Bless You". I do this despite my lack of believe in a God who listens and keeps a log as to whom should be blessed as a result. I do it in the spirit of humanity. Offerings of good blessings to all is something we should do for ourselves and those around us, whether friends, family or strangers.
Some who are very religious in the Christian faith, upon hearing a sneeze, do not offer these blessings. Perhaps, given their deep devotion, the blessing is assumed. Or, is it because those around them do not share their religious devotion and are therefore not deserving? Or maybe they don't see the need for us on earth to work together to unite humanity since we have a supreme overseer? Regardless, we should all be awake to the importance and presence of all of us in the world community without judgement.
Did I just judge? Need to work on that.....
Hearing others around me sneeze typically evokes an offer of "God Bless You" or perhaps a less theistical "Bless You". I do this despite my lack of believe in a God who listens and keeps a log as to whom should be blessed as a result. I do it in the spirit of humanity. Offerings of good blessings to all is something we should do for ourselves and those around us, whether friends, family or strangers.
Some who are very religious in the Christian faith, upon hearing a sneeze, do not offer these blessings. Perhaps, given their deep devotion, the blessing is assumed. Or, is it because those around them do not share their religious devotion and are therefore not deserving? Or maybe they don't see the need for us on earth to work together to unite humanity since we have a supreme overseer? Regardless, we should all be awake to the importance and presence of all of us in the world community without judgement.
Did I just judge? Need to work on that.....
Saturday, February 1, 2014
The Taunting
They sat there, taunting me with their silent awesomeness. I had brought them out of storage for my girl to try on again, to see if they would offer her the comfort she seeks in a shoe. They sat there on the floor for a couple of days and each time I saw them or walked past them, they spoke to me. They told me the tales of the places they would go, the hikes and camping trips they would partake in. They were practically screaming to me, causing great conflict. Craving? You bet. They knew I could not resist.
Before long, two pairs of shoes with similar potential for greatness we're bounding across the country to be delivered to my doorstep. They've now been here for three days, still housed in the outer box they were shipped in. I've not yet set my eyes on them. Will they live up to the greatness I've bestowed upon them? Until I know otherwise, they absolutely will.
They sat there, taunting me with their silent awesomeness. I had brought them out of storage for my girl to try on again, to see if they would offer her the comfort she seeks in a shoe. They sat there on the floor for a couple of days and each time I saw them or walked past them, they spoke to me. They told me the tales of the places they would go, the hikes and camping trips they would partake in. They were practically screaming to me, causing great conflict. Craving? You bet. They knew I could not resist.
Before long, two pairs of shoes with similar potential for greatness we're bounding across the country to be delivered to my doorstep. They've now been here for three days, still housed in the outer box they were shipped in. I've not yet set my eyes on them. Will they live up to the greatness I've bestowed upon them? Until I know otherwise, they absolutely will.
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