Giving My Heart and Soul

So much beauty along the trail during yesterday's hike.

You've no idea how hard
I've looked for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right!

What's the point of bringing gold
to the gold mine,
or water to the ocean?
Everything I came up with
was like taking spices to the orient.
It's no good giving
my heart and my soul,
because You already have these.

So - I've brought You a mirror
Look at YourSelf and remember me.

- Jalaluddin Rumi

Rainbows

Yesterday evening, as a light rain fell, the most perfect double rainbow was revealed in the eastern sky.

Mr. CfP and I looked out the window and oooohhhh'd and ahhhhhhhh'd at the beauty of the colors. Light shattering into variations that our eyes love to take in.

Then we went outside and ooooooohhh'd and ahhhhhhh'd some more as we took photos.

And it couldn't have happened on a better day, for it was exactly one year ago that the skies dumped a devastating hail/windstorm that destroyed gardens, roofs, trees, windows and cars. One year: awe at the power that can destroy, and the next year: awe at a brilliant, peaceful gift...

Unfortunately, I was so enamored with the rainbow that I didn't notice the raindrops landing on my lens.

Fortunately, I got a close-up of a little piece of the color before the camera and I got wet.

After the rainbow disappeared, while downloading my photos, I happened to touch my ring and it didn't feel right. I looked down and saw that the stones were gone. Where there had been two inlaid stones - lapis and opal - there was now a gaping hole. I have no idea how long they had been gone or where they might be.

Mr. CfP and I have (er, had) matching rings, our wedding rings. We chose the stones very intentionally, according to different theories about their energy.

I love opals - like the rainbow in the eastern sky, they shatter light into all colors. Their appearance is always changing, depending on the light and the angle in which they are viewed.

And lapis is the deepest of blues. It draws me in like the depths of water and sky.

A part of me wants to replace the stones. I enjoyed them so much. Another part of me wants to let go of attachments and just have my ring made into a band.

I'm definitely having a great time thinking about the happiness that someone is going to experience some day when they find two beautiful stones, one of which will give them rainbows every day of the year.

I Bean Pickin' and Pickin'

It's a meditation.

Going deep into the jungle of green bean plants,

focusing one-pointedly as I search for long, plump beans ready to be plucked.

I get lost within the thick, green foliage and forget all time and place.


My hands walk within the dark netherworld of moist soil and dried-up discarded blossoms who have given their lives to birth a bean and then to become food for the earth.

I meet many Daddy Long Legs wandering through the leaves,

travelers on the same path as I but with different aims.

We each tend to our own business while nodding hello as we pass.

(I greet each Mr. Long Legs and I swear there is a return acknowledgment.)

Is it the freshness, our organic methods, or the fact that I had to travel

this wild, primal jungle to procure my food

that makes the taste of these sweet, crisp beans so orgasmic?

A Different Point of View

While on the Cape last month, our nephew, David, who is nearing the ripe old age of 7, discovered photography, thanks to Mr. CfP's point and shoot digital camera. David took hundreds of photos and I think that he has a good eye. Below is just a sampling of his artwork.

Appreciating the gift that comes when we can glimpse the world through the eyes of a child, I added some of the lyrics of the Moody Blues song, "Eyes of a Child". If you want, you can click on the video and listen to the song while viewing the photos.

Listen hear the sound
The child awakes
Wonder all around
The child awakes

Now in his life he never must be lost
No thoughts must deceive him
In life he must trust

With the eyes of a child
You must come out and see
That your world's spinning 'round

And through life you will be
A small part
Of a hope

Of a love
That exists

In the eyes of a child you will see

Three Stories

Up until last week, I had been experiencing a pretty dry period as far as writable stories generated during our Women in Black vigil. But boy, the last couple of weeks have been fertile!

Here are three stories from today:

This happens all of the time, but I realized today just how precarious our situation can be. A "driver" who was talking on his cellphone with one hand gave us the peace sign with his other hand while his car, which obviously had no one holding the wheel, sped past. In my mind I could see the headlines:

Women Mowed Down by Driver Giving the Peace Sign.

And I thought: That wouldn't be the worst way to go.

Killed by Peace.

A short time later, a man driving a truck was stopped in front of us waiting for a green light when he yelled out, "End Obama's War!" Well, yeah, since the Decider no longer holds office, this is now Obama's war and yeah, he's escalated it and now more people are getting killed there than any time since it began, and... what's your point about pointing out the owner of the war? In fact, I pay my taxes, so it's MY war, too!

I might want to think about that "pay my taxes" point...

The last story. I saw a white SUV full of guys sitting at the light coming out of the mall. They were yelling loudly, but I was happy that I was far enough away from them that I couldn't hear what they were saying. I guess they needed us to hear them, though, because they drove around until they could come right past us and then they yelled hate-filled things about us and about people in other countries.

Before that, I had been in a place of completely experiencing all people, cars, buildings, birds, streets, EVERYTHING as God. As one-ness. And then these men who appeared to be very angry drove by. And you know what??? I heard Mother Teresa's voice in my head as she talked about "Christ in his Distressing Disguise". These guys were the Christ in his Distressing Disguise. I felt only compassion for them. Not the kind of "compassion" that says, "Oh, you poor, angry, misguided men. I'm so sorry." No, the kind of compassion that doesn't get its buttons pushed, but just sees it all as okay. They were expressing something from within them.

And I realized, once again, that it's all about me. The people around do their act. That's the show and I can't do anything about it. But will my heart stay open, no matter the content of the show? No matter the actions that may seem necessary? Or will my heart close in fear, anger, intimidation, or needing to be right, thus adding to the anger and confusion?

Equanimity.



“If there is love, there is hope to have real families, real brotherhood, real equanimity, real peace. If the love within your mind is lost, if you continue to see other beings as enemies, then no matter how much knowledge or education you have, no matter how much material progress is made, only suffering and confusion will ensue.” - Dalai Lama

What a Week!

I almost didn't post on this, the 15th anniversary of my marriage to my sweet Mr. Carol for Peace.

During the last 20 some hours, we were wondering if Buddha, the dog, was going to be around another day. We were in the emergency vet's office late last night and sleep was minimal after we got home, due to a very sick dog whose only diagnosis was that there was no diagnosis. Then this morning, when it truly looked like death was knocking, we went to our regular vet's office and lo and behold if Mr. Buddha didn't have a revival, walking all over the office, making us look like we had been experiencing hallucinations for the last 12 hours! The only thing that the vet can figure is that Buddha has some kind of stomach thingy going on. Bad enough to stop him from being able to walk or move much at all. Who knows??? Anyway, the rest of today he has been almost himself.

My Buddha dog is the sweetest dog and he shares so much love with me. I can't tell you how open my heart feels every time I even think of him.



And Mr. Carol for Peace... HOW did I luck out so well??? Not only is he one of the kindest, sweetest men I know, but he also puts up with ME! That's HUGE! Happy Anniversary to the man that I adore!

One more happy thing...

Because Buddha is somewhere between 83 and 90-something, depending on who you talk to, it has become impossible to do the thing that we have loved to do together more than anything - hiking. We are now down to less than a mile of flat walking. But I lucked out this week and found a friend to do a hike with me. 8.3 miles! Half of it uphill! I needed that. And that is where I saw this gorgeous butterfly:



"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." - Mother Teresa

This 4th of July Weekend

For almost five years of Saturdays, we women wearing black have stood on our corner as a witness to peace. We have been given gifts of all kinds, we have been flipped off, yelled at, clapped for, thanked, peace-signed and ignored. Most of the negative comments lack originality, obviously having been taken from some soundbite on television or radio. Not that peace signs are original or anything. But their silence (and their agreement with our message) is more tolerable than hearing an imitation of some Fox News talking head. So to stay consistent, I guess I'll have to admit that, for me, being flipped off is preferable to hearing someone yell "Support Our Troops" as we stand there offering the radical suggestion of ending wars so our troops can live healthy lives with their families.

I especially like standing in vigil on patriotic holidays. People are more alive and engaging.

So what was I going to write about? Oh yeah...

Yesterday I was holding this sign



when a man walked by and said to me, "Peace will come to earth when God comes back".

And I wondered...

Where did God go? And when?

Did God create the earth and all of the universe and then just GO somewhere?

Or did God abandon just those of us here on the earth? Is God now residing on other planets, allowing peace to flourish there?

How does this man KNOW that peace on earth will only come at some date when his God "comes back"? Did he read it? (He could have read about a lot of other possibilities.) Or does he KNOW it like he knows the back of his hand or the face of his child?

Are we supposed to let go of our imagining and our work toward a peaceful life because such acts are useless due to the fact that we can only have peace when this God comes back? Are we meant to be passive people waiting for our redemption? Or would this God, when he/she comes back, want us to have followed the teachings of the wise people of all ages, creating peace by treating our fellow (hu)man as we would like to be treated and "thou shalt not kill"ing and such?

Just wondering...

WWGGD

I bought an amazing Tibetan bowl. It sings in at least 1,542 tones all at once. (I made up that number, but it DOES have more ringtones than a 21-year-old's cellphone.)

The problem: The only way I could get a good sound was if I held the bowl or placed it on a body part. If I asked it to sing ("striking" or "hitting" sound like such violent words for what one does in order to hear a Tibetan bowl) while it sat on the floor or a table, it would sound awful - just an irritating vibration.

The solution: I saw that I could order little cloth stands that look like donuts and that gave me the idea of making my own cloth stand. In order to do that, though, I would have to pull out my little used sewing machine, hoping that the last time I broke the needle, I also replaced it.

OR

I could ask "What Would Goodnight Gram Do?" Which I did. Then I promptly sat down and knitted a donut for my bowl.

Viola! It works superbly!

You can see it peaking out from under the bowl in the photo above.

Oh, I wish you could hear the beautiful chime!

Along the Way

This month's interview in The Sun magazine is about Rites of Passage. The interviewee, Malidoma Some, is from the nation of Burkina Faso where he was raised with the tradition of initiations, a tradition that we in the West have forgotten.

He says, "Initiation means a rite of passage from one stage of life to another. The absence of formal initiation in the West is why young people create their own informal initiations, such as engaging in reckless and dangerous behavior."

I truly believe that I got lost as I entered womanhood. I had no direction, didn't know who I was and what gifts I had. Maybe a formal initiation into womanhood would have been successful in creating within me a sense of belonging and purpose. Maybe not. I will never know.




"Growing up female in America. What a liability! you grew up with your ears full of cosmetic ads, love songs, advice columns, whoreoscopes, Hollywood gossip, and moral dilemmas on the level of TV soap operas. What litanies the advertisers of the good life chanted at you! What curious catechisms!" - Erica Jong


"It seems that it is only the recent West that has deemed it unnecessary to 'initiate' young men. Otherwise, culture after culture felt that if the young man were not introduced to 'the mysteries,' he would not know what to do with his pain and would almost always abuse his power. It looks like they were right." - Richard Rohr.