Tonight

With three layers on top
and two layers everywhere else,
I was dressed for the arctic
as we headed out into 
the night and the
Blossoms of Light
at Denver's Botanic Gardens.
It was cold,
but not THAT cold, and
I was over-dressed,
but I like to be toasty.

Colored lights everywhere,
kind of strange to light the night
with electric colors -
adding to the lights
that fill up the sky so much
I could only count
five stars out of the
infinite number
that are shining out there.

Putting that aside for a moment,
I do have to say
that it all was impressive.
The work, talent, and money invested
in beauty, the oooohs and ahhhhhhs,
families out together, toddlers
only caring about the snow
beside the sidewalk, lovers
holding hands under warm
lights on a Spruce.

And still, I come back to
memories of
the awe-inducing beauty of
a sky so full of stars that I shrink
to infinitesimal; a single, silent candle's
cozy glow; a snow-frosted tree
outside my house.  Do we
need to add to the miracle
that's already here?

I think I'm a Glitz Grinch.

Just say "You're Welcome!"

She:  "Thank you for all you do."
Me:  "Oh, I don't do anything."

Another She:  "I like your hair."
Same Old Me (with scrunched up face):  "Today was hair washing day, and I didn't wash it."


Me:  "The massage you gave me took about ten pounds off of my shoulders. Thank you!"
Another She:  "That's great!"


I am tired of negating what people say.  I might as well be telling them that they are crazy and I don't believe them.  I want to learn from the Another She that just said, "That's great!"  I want to just celebrate or say "You're welcome!" when people compliment or thank me.

Here I am, wanting Dharma to immediately stop her chewing habit-of-a-lifetime, and I (so far) have not been able to stop my habit of being a poor compliment acceptor. 

Maybe I need to ask people to give me treats or at least pet my hair and tell me what a good girl I am when I gracefully accept their compliments.  I might learn faster that way... 

Little Ms. Dharma

I shouldn't be writing this right now.  The Cutest Puppy In The World is asleep. 

This is my opportunity to clean the kitchen, deal with the papers on my desk, and pick up shredded newspaper that decorates the floor of the bedroom, hall, and my office.

It's actually really nice to be able to sit at this computer, uninterrupted and un-bitten, though.  The hands that type these words are polka-dotted with injuries from puppy teeth.  I am Swiss cheese.

It's a good thing that puppy faces, puppy bellies and the popcorn smell of puppy feet can win me over every time.

When Nothing Needs to be Said

My parents' anniversary is this Saturday.  It will be the first wedding anniversary since my dad died.  My mom just wants this week to be over.  Funny, when I was a kid and said that I wished it was such and such a day because I was really looking forward to whatever was supposed to happen then, my mom would tell me not to wish my life away.  Now she's wishing a part of her life away. 

Mom was all watery on Sunday when we went over there.  She was fixated on a sad dream.  At first, I tried to be logical.  Kind of stupid to do that at that moment, and I'm sorry for that.  I finally realized that there was absolutely nothing that I could do except to be there.  So I shut up.  I sat and looked at my mom and felt compassion for how hard this is for her.  People aren't used to having others shut up.  I think Mom thought I should be saying something, but there was nothing to say.

Actually, contrary to my perceived need to say something to my mom while she was all upset, I have not had a lot to say lately.  I kind of find this baffling, but I mostly like it. 

When I left for my last retreat, I felt so full of noise, I thought that if I never heard another conversation again, it would be fine.  More than fine.  That's why I needed five days of silence.  I was full and needed to be emptied.

Empty is good.  It feels spacious.  There's room for wondering and not knowing, for spontaneity and magic.

They'll Have To Do It Without Me

I have stood in vigils for peace since the build-up to the war with Iraq in 2003.  Nine years.  I started a Women in Black vigil in my town over seven years ago.  I figure that I stood for peace for at least 350 hours, just in that vigil alone.  It has been a powerful and moving experience for me - in so many ways. 

And today I quit.

I won't go into the details of my crazy decision-making ways.  I will just say that, while on my most recent retreat, which you can read a little about here, it became very clear to me that I was done.  I know that when I hear a voice inside telling me to do or not do something, it's very wise to pay attention. 

It will be strange to have nothing scheduled in the middle of the day on Saturdays.  But you know what they say about a vacuum...

I don't know what will replace my commitment to the Women in Black vigil.  I'm thinking that it needs to be something very life-affirming.  Something that speaks to our commonality as humans and gives us joy, no matter our politics, our religion, our nationality, or anything else. 

I feel smiley inside just thinking about that!

Shades

Today our interreligious group met.  We took turns answering the question, "How does your tradition/path benefit your life?" 

It was fun to listen to everyone share what it is about their religion that gives them comfort/feeds their soul/resonates as truth/supports them in life.  Basically, I felt that I was hearing the same beautiful story over and over, but it was told in diverse ways, using varying languages and descriptors. I started to wonder..  Do we all really see the same thing but through different colored lenses?

For brief moments, I was able to view various spiritual paths through the lenses of those whose lives are enriched by them.

After our group, I drove to the eye doctor to pick up my spiffy new glasses.  They come with sunglasses that attach by magnets.  We have lots of sun here, and I sure don't do well out in it unless I have on sunglasses.  You may as well just give me a white cane and lead me where I need to go, because I can't always keep my eyes open when I'm out in the bright sunshine. 

Anyway, my new sunglasses make the world look a completely different color than the ones that I have worn for years.  These are more yellow than green - close to the look that the land takes when a tornado is brewing.  And even though I saw the same sights on the way home from the eye doctor as I did on the way to her office, the different colored lenses changed the look of my world.

I'm thinking that there's potential here in this realization.  There needs to be a mixing up of our lenses - especially those of people who seem to hate those whose lenses aren't the same color as their own. 

I just can't figure out how to make this happen...

Hey! Who Turned Out the Lights?

For some unknown reason, I have begun (again) to read the book, "A Peace Carol (2008 - 2011)".  It is a book of the posts of this blog which Mr. CFP had printed into a nice, hardcover book.  This photo of the late, great Buddha dog is on the front cover.

Sigh...

I am actually enjoying my moments of reading my first (and last) published book.  That surprises me. I have journaled off and on for much of my life, and I usually get slobber-on-myself bored when I go back and read my own writing.  Not so this time.

So I start to wonder who turned off the lights?  There has been so little creative light illuminating this place.  Over the past few months, I have felt like a dried up ballpoint pen.  All of the wonderings and philosophizings and editorializings that were fodder for my earlier blog posts are gone. 

Something died. 

Or it's sleeping. 

If you're in there, WAKE UP, creative juices!

***

Today, while standing at our Women in Black vigil, a young man walked up to each of us, one at a time, to say something.  I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying until he got to me.  Here is what he said:  "Excuse me, could I borrow a smile?"  I couldn't help but to burst out in a BIG smile, because I had kind of thought that this was what he was saying:  "Excuse me could I borrow a cigarette?"  I was all prepared to indicate that I had none, so the "smile" word caught me completely off guard, and the young man got his request.  Only I didn't LEND it to him.  I gave it away freely.


***

There must be a dog that wants a new home somewhere in the Denver area, because there is a magnetic pull which is drawing Mr. CFP and I toward the local animal shelters.  I think that tomorrow, we will go see if we can find the source of the pull.  Trying not to get too excited, because we are holding high expectations for a pretty darn perfect dog after our experience with Buddha.  Can any living creature meet such expectations?  I am thinking that the addition of an unconditional love type of animal into this home might just help get the lights turned back on.  I hope so...

If Mr. Right doesn't find us tomorrow, he will have to wait until next month, because I will soon be going away to get rejuiced at one of my favorite hermit-supporting destinations.

Hubba Hubba!

I know that I have bragged about our garden carrots before.  Usually, I have fun showing off their crazy shapes.  Today, I'm impressing myself with the big, fat juiciness of the two carrots I pulled today.  These big boys are going to become a part of a huge cabbage salad:

This is where they lived before I uprooted them.  Our raised bed gardens are built out of cinder blocks, and we have carrots and beets planted in every hole.  The carrots above were brothers in this now-bare-naked hole.  I almost got a hernia trying to pull them out - I think they liked their home. Sorry, guys...

Carrots in the outer holes, chard in the flatlands.

Happy Dance!

POTH #8

Had to blow the dust off my camera tonight in order to take some photos while sitting on the front deck.  The POTH (Photos Of The Happy) hasn't been occurring as regularly as I had thought it would.  These photos could actually be titled POTHIT (Photos Of The Hanging In There), because sometimes that's about all that's happening around here.  I haven't felt too great physically or psychologically lately, but I'm on the mend. 

Looking up from my perch on the front deck.

The Purple Coneflowers are on their way out, while the Black-Eyed Susans are, like me, hanging in there.

 

Begonias.  

I found out that the Grateful Dead did a song called Scarlett Begonias.  I considered adding a YouTube of the song, but I just couldn't do it.  I don't think that I "get" the Grateful Dead. 

Right now, the sun has set, and the crickets are in the seventh verse of their nightly chorus. The daylight is getting obviously shorter each day.  I love the summer, but I do have to say that this one has been intense.  The unrelenting heat was wearing.  The drought keeps trying to drain the life out of the plants.  Add to all of that my *ah-hem* advancing age, and you get a woman who is feeling happy to see the first gentle signs of fall arriving. 

A Silent Summer Walk

A summer Thursday morning, 6:00 a.m.
Walking with my friend, Arnie, on my left,
the South Platte River and Denver skyline to my right.
Everything is right here.  
Everything.
I sometimes think I hear
the sound of a train or the song of a bird, but it is really
One Alive Sound of
TrainSquealingGrindingHighwayTrafficDinningRed-WingedBlackbirdTrillingWaterFallingArnie’sFootstepsRhythming.

We pass dogs leading people with leashes.  
Bikers announce, “On yer left.”
The newborn sun silhouettes runner on bridge.

Arnie and I don’t talk, and neither do most of the people passing us.
It’s a no-talk kind of morning.

On a grassy hill, five or six people lie motionless,
bedded down in red and khaki sleeping bags
despite the noisy yawns and complaints of a city waking up.
I am an uninvited guest in their bedroom,
witnessing them in their most vulnerable state
as their Earth Mother cradles them.
So very intimate.

A summer Thursday morning, 6:00 a.m.
It is all happening, like a choreographed dance.
And everything is right here.
Everything.