What Greater Love?

I was out in the garden this morning, pulling weeds, when I looked over and saw 4 pea pods on a pea plant that was resting on the ground. In mid-March, I planted a garden of peas, because we had had such a warm winter that the ground was workable. "They" always say to plant peas early, as soon as the ground is workable, and I never seem to plant them early enough, so this year I did it. A week later, a blizzard arrived. I don't know if the blizzard was the cause, but only three pea plants came up. I have never failed at growing peas before, but this year, I flopped.

In May, I planted swiss chard along the little fences that were put in the garden to support my phantom peas. I haven't taken the little fences out, even though there is nothing to climb them.

Two of the three pea plants that came up died early on. All that is left is the one pea plant that, for some reason, lies on the ground. And it has given birth to four pea pods. Is that not beautiful? What a plant!

And just now, I read an article about a man who is in critical condition with burns he received while trying to save his quadriplegic dad. The man is only 20 years old and this is the third time that he has saved his father's life. I don't know if he will survive this time. Whether he does or not, the love that he has lived during his brief life is HUGE. More than many of us demonstrate over a long lifetime.

I feel so much gratitude for the strength of my little pea plant and for the love of that man. And I feel some self-condemnation, because I don't know if I have discovered the amount of love within myself that would lead me to overcome my fears and need for self-preservation so that I would run into a burning building to save another.

I have to sit with this...

Instead of Cleaning My Cluttered Office...

...I started writing some things I found in my head.

Friday evening and all day yesterday, Mr. Carol For Peace & I attended a wonderful workshop about inquiry. Inquiry into the truth that lies beneath the things that we think. It was beautiful and real.

Today, I feel so happy to be home. It's sunny right now. The windows are open and I am delighted to be here.

I never say the word, "delighted". Does delighted mean that I have been relieved of my light?

I watched the little fox this morning. It appeared that he was moving away from something or someone, because he ran across the street, then stopped, turned around, and was looking back toward where he came from. I just admired him as he stood there. He has long legs and a beautiful, perfect, slim body. Rust colored hair. A big white tip on his tail. If I only had that one moment of life, the moment that the fox and I stood still, me watching him, it would be enough.


Friday night, we ate broccoli out of our garden. It was as delicious as my teenage memories of praline ice cream.

Here is what is in front of me right now, on the stand that holds my computer monitor:

A perfect little shell that I found on the beach when I was on Whidbey Island last month.

Three little glass stones - a clear one, a light blue one, and a dark blue one. I don't remember from whence they came (I don't say "from whence", either, but this is fun!). Where DID these mystery glass spheres come from??? I do like them.

Two small rose-colored rocks from the desert - memories of the place where I feel free and at home.

A grommet with a square of tarp attached to it. It'sa piece of the tarp I used during my last vision quest. Our tarp is our protection from sun and rain, but this grommet broke free as I was setting up my solo area, in pounding wind, for my three day inward journey. I had a moment of desperation before I figured out a trick to make it all work. I keep this grommet in front of me as a reminder that I have resources and strength which I can draw upon when needed.

Two different little Buddha statues. One is Quan Yin, Buddha of Compassion. She is blue and she absorbs light, then glows in the dark. Hmmmmm... that's a nice thought.

We have had rain and more rain here the past few weeks! Green Mountain, which is usually green only from about April through May is still a beautiful shade of jade now at the end of June. I feel like I live in the Emerald City!

Buddha, the dog, is slowing down immensely and he is only able to walk on the flatlands. When it's not too hot. And when the sun is low in the sky. And after 1/2 hour, we are walking very, very ssssslowwww. He has always been my teacher. Now he is teaching me to slow down. I'm not always a cooperative student.

A book is calling my name now. There is not much worse than ignoring the call of a good book!

On wings

I pray to the birds.
I pray to the birds because I believe
they will carry the messages of my heart upward.
I pray to them because I believe in their existence,
the way their songs begin and end each day
- the invocations and benediction of earth.
I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love
rather than what I fear.
And at the end of my prayers,
they teach me how to listen.

- Terry Tempest Williams

Blooming Recklessly

Our cottonwood trees have so much cotton that it appears a blizzard is going on outside. This is a photo of one of the skylights in our screened-in-porch. It is plastered with leaves - thank you hailstorm - and cotton from the cottonwoods. I love the artwork these elements made.

Begonias that sit below that artful skylight

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
- Rainer Maria Rilke

Being Human

My sister through Women For Women International lives in Bosnia & Herzegovina.
Over the last few months, I have worked to connect with this woman who lives 5,700 miles from me and doesn't speak my language. In her most recent letter to me, it sounds like we have made a connection that knows no language, miles, or culture.

I learned that my Bosnian sister used to work in a factory until it was closed as a result of the 1992 -1995 Bosnian war that killed over 100,000 people and displaced over 1.8 million others. Again I'm reminded of how the effects of war reach far and wide and are long-lasting.

The part of the letter that meant the most to me says,

"I feel proud to have you as my sister and a part of my family. I'm happy to hear that you are a part of the Women in Black, that is similar to our Mother's society (mother of desist war defenders). I hope that the new brilliant minds will overcome the world and that being human will be the most important thing."

Being human will be the most important thing.

Yes!

A piece of my heart now lives in Bosnia & Herzegovina.

The Best Weekend

1. Last night, we got to visit with friends from our disbanded couples' group, including a couple that was back here visiting from Virginia where they moved two years ago. Good food, good friends, much love.

2. Today, Border Explorer came to town and stood with me and the rest of the Women in Black vigilers! Then she came over and hung out at my house for a couple of hours. That was SO wonderful! I really think that "in person" beats Bloggerland any old day. And I'm thinking that all of my blogging friends should move here and we could have a commune together.

Love ya, B.E.!

The vigil
(B.E. is 2nd from the right, I'm far right. Wait! No! I'm a leftie! But I am always right! Oh, never mind...)

3. Today I got cards and a gift in the mail, because

TOMORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY!

(She says as she dances around the room like a little kid, because, well, why not?)

4. Tomorrow we will bring lunch over to my parents' in celebration of Father's Day.

5. Tomorrow night, Mr. Carol For Peace, my son, and I will be going to the Eric Clapton/Steve Winwood concert!

6. I'm alive.
I love the summer and I thrive during the summer solstice.
I'm getting to share this with you.
I have tomato plants that survived the hail and maybe, some other vegetable plants will come around, too.
I have a wonderful family.
I have super friends.
I have wise teachers.
I love and am loved.
Life is amazing.

Iran: What We Can Do

My teachers were recently in Iran. They travel to the Middle East free of ideas, except for the goal of remaining open to listening. Below is a "Letter From the Road" that Elias sent out today. It gives a beautiful light on what is going on in Iran right now.

LETTER FROM THE ROAD, #36
Elias Amidon
June, 2009

IRAN AND THE FEATHER OF THE SIMORGH

I would like to step back for a moment from the compelling drama occurring now in Iran to look at this drama with a long-view question in mind: what does it tell us about the evolution of human societies? What does the conflict in present-day Iran reveal about what is seeking to be born on a global scale in the way we humans relate to each other?

To aid us in this long-view, let us turn to a story that is told in Iran’s great national epic, the Shahnameh, written 1,000 years ago by Ferdowsi, the most beloved of all Persian poets.

The story goes like this: a baby was abandoned on a mountainside. His cries were heard by the Simorgh, the benevolent winged deity of vast powers, who raised the baby as her own. When the time came for the young man, now called Prince Zal, to rejoin the human world the Simorgh gifted the prince with three feathers which he was to use if he ever needed her help.

And so it happened upon returning to his kingdom that Prince Zal fell in love and married the beautiful Rudaba. When the time arrived for their first child to be born, Rudaba’s labor was prolonged and terrible. She was near death when Prince Zal summoned the Simorgh for help. The Simorgh appeared and instructed Zal to trace one of the feathers across Rudaba’s belly. He did so and thus saved Rudaba and the child, and the child grew up to become the greatest of all Persian heroes, Rostam—“the world brightening one.”

Rudaba’s Labor
I trust Ferdowsi will forgive me for suggesting that the story of the birth of Rostam may serve as a parable for what is occurring in Iran—and indeed throughout the world—in this period of human history.

Rudaba’s—and Iran’s—long labor will not come to an end until the cycle of human violence comes to an end—the cycle that reacts to violence and injustice with more violence and injustice. For thousands of years this cycle has recurred, preventing the birth of that which we long for: the possibility of living together in kindness, tolerance, and peace. This possibility is “the world brightening one.” It is humanity’s Rostam: no longer a singular male hero battling injustice, our Rostam is no less than the birth of the capacity to relate to one another with open minds and open hearts rather than from rigid positions.

The seas of people now marching in Iran are seeking to end the long agony of Rudaba’s labor. They are responding to the regime’s oppression not with violence but with nonviolent civil disobedience, and, in many cases, in silence. This kind of profound nonviolent action is the Simorgh’s feather being traced on Rudaba’s tormented belly. Its inherent gentleness is the only response that can release her from her long labor.

It takes enormous courage to face oppression with kindness, to put a flower in the muzzle of a gun. If Iranians can maintain this courage they will change the course of history, joining the recent nonviolent movements that have toppled dictatorships in places like the Philippines, Serbia, Czechoslovakia, East Germany, Nepal, and elsewhere. A recent study has shown that of the 67 transitions from authoritarian regimes to more democratic governments over the past few decades, these changes “were catalyzed not through foreign invasion, and only rarely through armed revolt or voluntary elite-driven reforms, but overwhelmingly by democratic civil society organizations utilizing nonviolent action and other forms of civil resistance, such as strikes, boycotts, civil disobedience, and mass protests.” (Stephen Zunes)

The Simorgh’s feather: resilient and tender, its magical touch is the heart of the Golden Rule, the heart of the activism of Gandhi, King, and Mandela, and the heart of the teachings of all the great prophets of humanity. It is the refusal to react to violence with violence.

What Can We Do?
Two months ago during our journey through Iran we met a man named Ali working in a bazaar in the city of Shiraz. Ali was a veteran of the Iran-Iraq war, intensely proud of Iran and its central place in human history.

“We have been an important part of the growth of civilization,” he said, “but now we are stranded. Our minds are stranded. We cannot communicate with or travel freely in the world. People think we are terrorists—look around you, do you see terrorists? We are stranded, and no one knows who we are.”

I think of Ali and wonder if he feels less stranded at the moment, with so much of the world’s attention turned toward the events in Iran. TV, radio, newspapers, the Internet, Twitter, Facebook—in countless thousands of ways people around the world are taking part in the touch of the Simorgh’s feather as we bear witness to the nonviolent actions in Iran.

Just as it is for every nonviolent movement, the role of the witness is crucial. “The whole world is watching!” we cry, calling forth the power of shame that is heaped upon the perpetrator when an injustice is witnessed. This shaming is a curious thing, since it gets its power from an innate ethic within us—the British were shamed by having the world witness them beating Gandhi’s salt marchers, just as America was shamed by the publication of the photos from Abu Ghraib. The ruling clerics in Iran know that when they are seen butchering protesters any claim the Islamic Revolution has of benevolence becomes a lie.

So what can we do, far from Iran? We can pay attention. We can be at the other end of the tweets and the YouTube videos. We can be the watching world as the Iranians marching in the streets silently confront the guns of the military. In this way we can act in solidarity with all Iranians—the protesters and the ruling clerics and the Ahmadinejad supporters and the military—helping all of us come to the aid of “the world brightening one” that is being born.



A Note About Our “Encountering Iran” Journey, October 5-19
At this time the group journey we are planning to Iran in October is still scheduled to happen. Of course, our ability to get visas from the Iranian Foreign Ministry depends on what happens in the coming weeks, and upon their comfort with welcoming foreign travelers at this time. Currently there are 4 places still available for this trip. You can find a description of the Encountering Iran journey at PathofTheFriend.org. You are most welcome to join us.

Nature Wins Every Time

Yesterday

It was a dark and stormy night. Afternoon, actually. The tornado sirens were blaring - a sound that I haven't heard, except during testing, for years and years. Wind and rain and hail pounded, sirens wailed and Mr. Carol For Peace and I ran outside and threw our bodies over the vegetable plants to save their lives. Okay, we threw sheets over the tomatoes and the broccoli plants. I wanted to hide in the closet so the furious tornado didn't fly me to KANSAS. Mr. Buddha dog had different ideas. So did Mr. CFP. Ms. Kitty slept. No one hid from danger, but we're still here and our house still stands.

When things finally calmed down, we went out to survey the damage. The tomatoes survived with very little damage. The broccoli... the green beans... the peas... the lettuce... the swiss chard... Well, the funeral will be held later this week.

Suddenly, another ominous sound. Not the tornado siren, but the DOORBELL! It was my cousin, Larry! He had just arrived from... KANSAS!!! (I swear, it's the truth!)

Oh, what a tumultuous day! One thing after another!!!

I took photos of the damage to my veggies, but Gmail and Blogger have not been my friends lately. I can seldom get my email to work and I can't upload any photos on this *#%* blog. I HOPE that this photoless post reaches the outside world.


Today

Leaves are still plastered on the sidewalk. Plant parts are strewn across the garden.

Mr. CFP, Larry, Mr. Buddha, and I went cooper's hawk next visiting. Three babies and mom and dad were available for our viewing pleasure.

La la la la life goes on...

(Almost) 55 And Still Alive

But we decide which is right
And which is an illusion
- Moody Blues

Every once in awhile - oh, about once a year - a birthday comes along, and with it comes some reflecting. One of the graceful things about aging is that, over a lot of years, we accumulate much to reflect on, and reflections can create clarity. Or, in some cases, more confusion, I guess.

I remember rollerskating at the roller rink in the Kansas town where I lived. I was about eight years old. One of my favorite songs to skate to was Big, Bad John by Jimmy Dean. Oy. Anyway, I remember skating around in circles, the lights above us changing the floor from red to green to blue and, for some reason, I decided that I would not live past the age of 50. Fifty was old. I didn't want to be old.

Well, that plan has been blown away!

I had a pretty hard time turning 30 and then again when turning 40. I took things WAYYYYY too seriously then. At 30, I thought that my life should offer me more than it had so far, so I jumped ship out of my marriage to go find out what the "more" could be (I only ended up finding me - and I had been here all along!). At 40, I dwelled on what I thought was a fact - that half of my life was over. At the time, that was a depressing thought for me. Now it doesn't sound so bad. Especially considering that 40 would have been not one half, but four/fifths, of my life if my earlier wish to not see 50 had come true.

Today, while bathing, I wondered how the heck I came to live in a body like this. Everything is changing. Did I get transported into someone else's bag of bones? As I washed, I thought about how obvious my bodily changes were during the first 16 or so years of my life. After that, it seemed that my outer appearance kind of settled and stayed the same for about 34 years. The last 5 years, rapid and obvious changes have begun again and if I live long enough, they'll be going on for awhile, I suppose.

Caterpillar: Who... are... you?
Alice: Why, I hardly know, sir. I've changed so much since this morning, you see...
Caterpillar: No, I do not C, explain yourself.
Alice: I'm afraid I can't explain myself, you see, because I'm not myself, you know.
Caterpillar: I do not know.
Alice: I can't put it any more clearly, sir, because it isn't clear to me.

- Alice in Wonderland

Dancing With Dancing

Sandie of Dancing on a Blade of Grass recently stopped by to say "Hi!" as she passed through Denver on her way back to the U.K. She, her hubby, and her sister-in-law had been in the States for a month and, even though they were tired from all of the traveling, they took the time to come over for dinner a couple of days ago.

What wonderful people!!!

I was going to post a photo of Sandie and me, but I have not overcome my well-honed ability to critique how I look in photos. I'm working on that...That work seems to be an ongoing project.

I guess I could have cut myself out of the photo and just shown you Sandie in all of her beauty!

It's so amazing how connecting through bloggerland and other internet methods creates such familiarity. I swear that, after getting to know Sandie via her blog, I would have recognized her anywhere - like a long lost friend.

Oh, okay. Here we are in black and white, just to prove that I really did get to meet her in real life.

Sandie, it was wonderful to spend some time with you and to meet your husband and sister-in-law. It was also fun to learn about some British terms and to hear about some of your views of the American way of life. Thank you for taking the time to visit! Come back any time!

Emptiness into Emptiness

We put thirty spokes to make a wheel: But it is on the hole in the center that the use of the cart hinges. We make a vessel from a lump of clay; But it is the empty space within the vessel that makes it useful. We make doors and windows for a room; But it is the empty spaces that make the room livable. Thus, while existence has advantages, It is the emptiness that makes it useful.
- Lao Tzu



I was going to let this blog post be just a photo and a quote. But in the making of this post, I had a related experience:

I just now took the pitcher that you see above outside so that I could photograph it for this blog post. I have had this piece of pottery for a very, very long time and I have enjoyed it incredibly . As I came inside from photographing the pitcher, I felt a weak spot in the handle give, and before I had time to think, the whole thing dropped to the CERAMIC TILE FLOOR and broke into a gazillion pieces. Or at least into about 76 pieces.

I had a flash of "wah!", but within a second, I remembered the story about some wise teacher - I don't remember who - who would hold up a glass and say "I know this glass is already broken, so I enjoy it incredibly."

My pitcher is only a memory now. It was always already broken. Its emptiness is all that it is.

Wow! If I keep having these "letting go" experiences, I may at some point end up with nothing more to let go of. Let's see... what else can I find around here to photograph and break???

Purple

I had a relative - a great-aunt or something like that - named Aunt Velda, who mostly wore purple and who mostly surrounded herself with various shades of that royal color. She wore a purple hat with flowers on it. She had a purple coat.


I remember this distinctly: the toilet brush cleaner thing in her bathroom was PURPLE! Is that not the best??? She had purple glassware. This woman LOVED all things violet and mulberry and lavender and lilac.



Another relative thought that all of this purpleness MUST be the cause of the weirdities of Velda. This person thought that being surrounded by only one color could contribute to strange behavior. I'm not sure what strange behavior Aunt Velda exhibited. But I was young. Maybe I didn't notice such things. I thought she was just fine. Maybe I still wouldn't notice now, because I've always appreciated those that don't quite fit into the fabricated "norms" of the world.

Tonight, in honor of purple and mulberry and violet and Aunt Velda, I post purple flowers. I also just finished listening to Deep Purple playing "Smoke on the Water" and Jimi Hendricks playing Purple Haze.

Do you think that I've been around too much purple???

Chirpers

Nesting Super Sleuth, Carol, thought that there were some birds interested in homesteading somewhere near her office window. The signs were there. Much bird traffic going on a couple of weeks ago. Grass in places it shouldn't ought to be. Still, there was no sign of a completed home UNTIL... today - the telltale sounds of baby CHIRPING, heard from inside the eave of the house.

The Nest Scene - notice the hole up there.

Close-up evidence. This is where the sound of multiple chirps and tweets were heard.

Now, in order to gather more evidence, Carol is going to have to sit at her open window for hours and watch for mom and pop to bring food to the nest. In order to do this, she's calling in sick tomorrow...

Freedom Isn't Everything

The Letter From the Editor in this month's Ode Magazine is titled "Freedom isn't everything".

I really like that.

Jurriaan Kamp writes about Viktor Frankl and states that his philosophy was "Everyone is capable of finding meaning in life, even in adversity." He goes on to say that Frankl declared that "...freedom, though it must be cherished, can never stand alone. Individual freedom from oppression has no meaning unless it's linked to responsibility for our actions. Frankl observed that many people are frightened by responsibility and take refuge in freedom."

More from Kamp's letter:

In his plea for responsibility, Frankl suggested the Statue of Liberty on the East Coast be complemented by a Statue of Responsibility on the West Coast to serve as a visual reminder that freedom and responsibility go hand in hand. Alas, Frankl didn't live to see it - he died in 1997 at the age of 92 - but a location for this monument will be chosen this year by the Statue of Responsibility Foundation, which hopes to finish building next year. The statue is a powerful image of two hands grasping each other; one hand symbolized personal responsibility; the other, those for whom we feel responsible - society's outcasts, the environment, the world's poor, humanity as a whole.

Sounds like a nice idea to me.