Only the Sweetness is Left

He always has been mostly sweet
but nowadays
it's like someone ran him through
a sieve, catching any pieces
of anger or judgment
so that all that are left
are the sweet parts.

It seems to be the greatest fear
of so many,
the loss of the mind,
no memory
or ability to make decisions.

But I watch one person
live in utter simplicity,
devoid of memories of things past,
in complete happiness and
gratitude
while another loses patience,
judges, wishes that things were
different.
And I wonder if a mind
is all it's cracked up to be.

It's kind of like he's been stripped
bare
and his beautiful, pure, original
essence
just shines,

while I try to find myself
beneath all I think
I know
and all I think
I should know, and
the clutter of memories
and decisions.

I can almost glimpse
that beneath it all,
I, too, am only the Sweetness.

Walk A Mile In Someone Else's Shoes

I have to post a link to a blog post by Tim Wise who is "among the most prominent anti-racist writers and activists in the U.S."

It's titled "Imagine if the Tea Party was Black".

Sometimes we forget to think about these things...

My Life Was Changed

We were introduced to Sigur Ros a year ago by my then 27 year old son. He invited us over to his apartment to watch the video, Heima (which means "Home" in Icelandic). We fell in love with the music and with the dream of going to Iceland someday. Don't ask me to accurately describe Sigur Ros' music. Ethereal? Definitely beautiful. My mind can't hold onto it, so I am freed from thought and day-to-day life. It's a meditation that knows how to permeate into one's very core.

The singer of Sigur Ros, Jonsi, is out on his own now and he and his entourage of incredible musicians are on tour. Guess who we saw last night!

It was not a concert; it was an experience - on all levels. And, like all transcendent experiences, it is unexplainable.

You can see one performance below, but trust me, this video is not even close to the same as experiencing these guys live.

jónsi - sinking friendships (live) from Jónsi on Vimeo.

If you think I'm strange (well, you're right)... If you think I'm strange because I say this was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, read some of the audience reviews from last night by clicking here.

If you don't want to take the time to read the reviews, just check out these two short ones:

1) Within the first few songs, I cried like a little girl… and I’m a 37y/o dude. Then my heart opened wide.
Thank you for a wonderful show.
Go, Go, Go, See Jónsi Go.

2) closest thing to a religious experience i’ve had at a show. no words, pictures, sound clips, etc, could even begin to explain to a person who wasn’t there what was shared by all. we left shaking our heads, spellbound like little children.

How many times have you had experiences like THOSE at a concert?

I just realized: I think that last night I experienced my first EcstasyFest (not the drug; the real thing).

All I Am Saying...

... is I gave peas a chance.



It all began with planting seeds in fertile soil. I didn't wait for anyone else to do it for me. I saw a need and I rose to the occasion. Sure, I asked for help along the way. We can't do it all alone. Others joined me in creating the perfect conditions for peas to become a reality.

It took time, but we just needed patience. We couldn't MAKE it happen. Peas took loving care and attending to. I had to trust that there is something bigger than me, bigger than all of us. That "something" is innately filled with life and, well, peas. I mean, all we did was plant the seed and care for it without ever giving up. The rest just seemed to happen.

Now that peas is a reality, we can't just sit back and think that our work is done. Although it seems to have a life of its own, it's still in its beginning stages and it needs attention and care. We have to nurture it and love it like we would our newborn baby. Trust me, it can be work at times, but we also have fun along the way. This is not just about the peas we will enjoy in the future. It's also about the process.

There is no way to peas; peas is the way.
- A. J. Muste

It isn't enough to talk about peas. One must believe in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

Imagine all the people living life in peas.
- John Lennon

(All quotes edited - somewhat - by yours truly.)

The Visit

I don't think of her so often anymore.

But a few days ago, as I walked into the dark front hallway, I had the thought, "Look out for Kitty so you don't step on her." Then I remembered.

Last night she visited me in my dream. I needed to protect her from other animals. I needed to call to her to lure her away from danger. I had the thought that if I told her in a firm to voice to come, she may not do it, but if I called to her sweetly, she would probably come.

So, even though the situation seemed rather urgent, I sang out, "Come here, sweet kitty, kitty."

And she came to me and she purred and we loved on each other like we used to do, rubbing noses together in total love.

Awwww, my sweet kitty.

I don't think of myself as being a person who asks for things in a demanding or authoritative way, but today I will pay extra attention to making any requests with kindness and with a heart as big as this heart feels when I think of Ms. Kitty.

I've Died and Gone to Heaven

An eagle and hawk type of day. It doesn't get any better.

Today, as we did what has become our new normal hike - short and early in the morning to accommodate a Buddha dog whose age makes him the equivalent of an 80+ year old human - we saw BOTH an eagle and a hawk! Oh, happy day!

Of course, we had no binoculars with us and of course we didn't have our good cameras, but fortunately, Mr. CFP had his itty bitty camera with him.

Golden Eagle

Golden Eagle from a distance - he's HUGE!

Not a good photo, but you can see baby hawk's head poking up over the top of the nest. At one point, a squirrel was working its way to the nest. We thought for sure that Momma Hawk would come swooping down on him, but instead, baby hawk spread his wings and got real big, motivating the squirrel to go back down the tree.

I wonder how long it's going to take to wipe this smile off of my face.

Joy to the World

I've been attempting a blog post for days.

Write parts.

Delete parts.

Change subjects.

Put too many subjects together under one roof.

Delete and start again.

***

I am three quarters through the book, The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun.

I'm reading it because my daughter told me to, and I always do what she says to do.

(My daughter doesn't read my blog, so she'll never be able to debate me on the validity of the sentence above.)

I am already happy. A happiness book wasn't something that I would have ever chosen on my own, but through the reading of this book, I have found some interesting challenges that are already changing my life. How fun!

***

We went to see readings by Warrior Writers last night. We listened to veterans from the Afghanistan and Iraq Wars reading poetry and stories which express what lives inside them after their combat and non-combat experiences.

Will write more about that later. Still digesting.

Bought the book, Warrior Writers: Remaking Sense, while at the event.

Going back to "happiness", is this Gibran quote that I found in the Editor's Notes of the Warrior Writers' book true?:

"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."
- Kahlil Gibran

From my experience, sorrows have created space for more joy only when I have let them carve deep into my being. The times that I have only danced on the surface of sorrow, without giving it words and life; those are the times that joy finds no avenue for penetrating my heart and breaking it open. Roadblocks everywhere.

Some people might not think that listening to the pain and anger of returned vets would add to one's happiness. I feel happy to know that these brave young men are more brave than any of us thought they were. The bravery is not just found on the battlefield. It's found in admitting one's actions, in facing one's deepest nightmares, in saying the unsayable. I am happy that I got to witness the profound last night.

If Gibran's quote is true, the soldiers in the video below must have a chasm for joy that runs deeper than the deepest ocean. I don't know. But I truly hope so.

How I Survived the USPS Massacree

I mailed over 900 postcards to Washington, D.C. today.


The postcards need to get to D.C. by Monday. I drove to the nearest post office this morning - a small post office in a dinky town which is only one square mile in size. I like to go to that branch because I like small (singing the Cheers song, "Where everybody knows your name" as she types - and no, no one there really does know my name).

When I entered the lobby, I saw a line of about six people, with only one clerk working at the counters.

Hmmmm...

I stood in line for a very long time. I have never seen a postal customer take as long as that customer at the counter was taking. And it isn't even Christmas season! Soon, the natives started getting restless. People were complaining in loud voices. I overheard the clerk say something about the "system" being slow and that she wasn't being able to accept credit cards.

Well, poo.

I had no cash on me. Still I stood. Everything seemed so okay, even with these loud voices and the lack of hope that was falling down on me.

A woman who knows no strangers came in and started talking to, well, anyone around. I found out that it was her birthday yesterday and she turned 47. Yesterday, someone on the bus drew her a little birthday card on a little piece of paper. She pulled the "card" out of her purse and showed it to the woman in front of me. So proud, so touched. And announcing that she'll have to do that for someone else now - "paying it forward".

Her 47-year-old face was as light as a child's.

When it was my turn to go to the window, I told the clerk that I heard her say the computers weren't accepting credit cards right now, so I just wanted to ask if they would be able to meet my needs should I decide to come back once things were working again. Could they get the postcards to D.C. by Monday? Not tomorrow, but Monday?

Well, yes. For an exorbitant fee
-this 14 pound box, which contained hours of work by people from all walks of life
- this box full of the names of U.S. soldiers who served in Afghanistan and willingly put their lives on the line for their beliefs
- this box full of signatures of people who wish for peace for our world
- this box would be delivered to people in D.C. who will then take it to Nancy Pelosi.

(And no, I hold no hope that Nancy Pelosi will do anything regarding the wars because of receiving those postcards, but one does what one can, holding the ideal of peace, no matter what the circumstances. And sometimes, just standing peacefully in line, surrounded by angry customers, is all we can do to bring peace to the world.)

After telling me the stiff price of postage for this box that TRULY must have contained gold, then picking me up off of the floor, the clerk ran my credit card through the machine and it worked as smooth as a hot knife through butter. Oh happy Day!!!

And I am forwarding to you the wishes Ms. USPS gave me as I walked out the door (okay, I revised them somewhat):

Much grace and love to YOU during this time of year that is special in many traditions and paths.