On Giving (and Receiving)

I've been taking a Practice of Kindness class on-line and it is a wonderful experience.  

The first week, we were to do something kind for ourselves. I found that I do that.  A LOT.  But I don't normally completely receive my own kindness.  I don't FEEL it, take it in.  So the gift I gave myself was to really take in the kindnesses I do for myself.  In fact, I became more aware of the kindness of others and the kindness of Life.

I give myself an A+ for Week One.

For the second week, we were assigned the task of thinking of people who have been kind to us and we were to do something kind for them.  I had someone in mind.  I wanted to send him a card made with one of my photos.  I found that I am doing so many kind acts for my parents that I had no energy left to get the right photo printed, write the note, and get it sent.

I flunked Week Two.

Except I didn't, because I do kindnesses every day.

Just not the one that I had intended to do...

We are now in Week Three.  I can't remember the assignment.  I'm tired.  Oh, yeah.  We are to do an act of kindness for a good friend.  Still working on that.

This afternoon, I will be receiving a wonderful gift of kindness from one of my massage therapist friends.  She offered me a free massage because she knows that I am doing so much right now.  When she offered it, the floodgates opened up and I bawled like a baby.  Her thoughtfulness was so touching and beautiful.

I just picked some vegetables from my garden for her (hoping that she likes such things).

Now, as an act of kindness for myself, I'll quit grading myself in this class!

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Dalai Lama

One of my favorite quotes:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle. - (Plato?)

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?

Impermanent Joy #1

Thank you to all who have responded to my Joyful Request -whether by email, comment, or through filling out my contact form. I'm TRYING not to respond to responses received. They are yours - not for me to like or dislike or relate to or nuthin'. They are your life, your art. On the solstice, I will compile them into one blog post and we will have a joyful quilt.

If you haven't sent me your answer yet, time's a-wastin'! Act now! Offer expires... ummm... soon! Click here to find out about this exciting opportunity!

~~~~~

Before the frosts had stopped, I planted pea seeds, hoping that this year, the weather gods would smile upon me and I would have more peas than we could eat. I planted all sugar snap peas - none of that shelling and throwing away pods for me.

There are now Peas on Earth!

And amongst all of the eatin' peas, somehow a sweet pea plant has grown! This is not the eatin' kind. It's just for sweet beauty.

This time of year, I love to find wild sweet peas along the hiking trails. Now I have my very own, right here.

And I can't stop hearing the gravelly sound of Popeye's voice exclaiming "Swee' Pea!"

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.)

Who Would Have Known?

Who would have known that the destruction from the hail storm would be one of the best things that could happen to me?

Yesterday I went to a different type of health practitioner, a woman that I have heard about for years, for a gut problem that I have had my whole life. Yes, Larry, I have already exhausted mainstream medical wisdom on this. ;-) I was tested for food and yeast and bacteria and stuff, and we found that I was sensitive to a number of things. One group of foods that my body doesn't like is the nightshade family. As in tomatoes, peppers, eggplants.

Not all people agree that nightshades can cause problems, but many believe that they affect us adversely. Here's a little blip I found in a search on nightshades:

A particular group of substances in these foods, called alkaloids, can impact nerve-muscle function and digestive function in animals and humans, and may also be able to compromise joint function.

I LOVE tomatoes. I love them so much that I only eat them when they come out of my garden, because any tomato that has been picked somewhere else and sent here just is not the same animal. THOSE are NOT tomatoes, but only some very distant relatives. So, this time of year, I love to indulge in fresh tomatoes grown in my backyard and I freeze all extras for use in soups during the rest of the year.

This year, there are no backyard tomatoes, thank you hailstorm.


Thus, no temptation for me to eat those little buggers that I love but who don't love me.

Now isn't that just convenient???'

For me, anyway. (Sorry, Mr. Carol For Peace, that you get to go without tomatoes, also...)

Shoveling Out

According to my next-door neighbor, the 10:00 news weather forecast last night didn't even call for what happened by 10:20. From out of nowhere, all hell just broke loose. We were some of the luckier ones. There are people with windows blown out. There is a house in Arvada with a tree going through it. We got plant and tree damage and damage to the paint on our house. The hoods of our cars look like the surface of the moon. Mr. Carol for Peace is on the roof right now, cleaning off the leaves and branches and looking for damage.

Would you like to take a tour of our house and neighborhood? (If not, you know what to do.)


The sun didn't come out until maybe 7 or later this morning. The sky didn't seem to exist. Things were eerily silent around here, except for the sound of transformers exploding every once in awhile. Then as things got lighter, we were inundated with helicopters hovering overhead for a really long time. It started to get unnerving.

Our front deck

One of the biggest branches that we lost - about 12 feet long. Not bad, considering...

These used to be green bean plants. We were just starting to get some beans.

Broccoli

Tomato plant


We had one ripe tomato. Yesterday, I thought that I would wait until today to pick it.

Our house is the one on the right. Our neighbor's car is under those broken branches.

If you look closely, you can see the right tail-light between the branches. Notice how few leaves there are on the branches that stayed upright. A lot of trees, plants and bushes here were just stripped.

In the night, I wondered about the wildlife. Where do they go? How could they all avoid the wind and hail that pelted us? I wonder if this bird is a victim of the storm. You can see that he has a wounded leg, and I'm not sure his wings are working well. When I saw him a second time, close to my front door, I thought I should catch him and get him to a rehabber, but he wouldn't let me get him.

There's another storm in the forecast for tonight. I hope they're wrong about that.

Just Like That

It's 12:45 a.m.

Sirens are blaring all around, sometimes it sounds like the 4th of July because of the explosions of transformers around town. We have no electricity - I'm typing on the laptop.

I can't sleep for a number of reasons.

I went to bed at 9:30 because we were going to get up early for a hike on Green Mountain.

At 10:30, I awoke to winds that sounded like a hurricane. They were quickly followed by hail and lightening. Hail that didn't fall from the sky, but instead was slung with a tremendous force.

We have no basement and I was afraid that we were either in a tornado or at the very least, the hail could break the windows. So I took my pillow and stood in our walk-in closet. It might not be any safer there, but it was all I could do.

After it all passed, we went outside to survey the damage. It was (and still is) eerie out there. No lights are working and there is a foggy, misty aura in the air.

My neighbor's HUGE maple is broken to pieces - some of it lying on their car and some clear into our yard. This is the house where our neighbor, J, lived. J died suddenly in a biking accident a week and a half ago. It is his car that is now covered by a huge branch of the tree. In the dark, we couldn't yet tell how much damage it has sustained.

We went in the backyard to see our garden. What garden? Amazing. I will take photos when it's light out.

After our hailstorm earlier this year, the broccoli had come back; most of the beans and part of the peas had recovered; and the kale and swiss chard were doing well. The zucchini plants and the tomatoes had survived the first hailstorm because we had covered them with sheets. I had just realized that we would have enough garden vegetables that we wouldn't have to buy any from the store this summer.

Now there is nothing. It only took about 10 minutes to flatten what has taken months to grow.

Just like that.

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!

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...

Plans

Yesterday I found organic spinach and swiss chard seeds. I bought lots.

Today I found many, many more types of organic seeds in the local health food store. I bought even more.

Bush beans (in honor of our recently de-throned prez), peas, lettuce, kale, chamomile, arugula...

On this cool February day, there is no guarantee that I will be here to plant those seeds when it is time. I have nothing to assure me that the necessary growing conditions for a healthy garden will occur this spring and summer.

Still, we buy seeds, we make plans, we say goodbye like there is always a tomorrow.

I like what the Muslims say, "Insha' allah" - God willing. I will plant my seeds this spring, insha'allah. And I will follow through on my commitment to others, but I will only be doing it if it fits with The Plan that is larger than my own.

I'm not saying that I necessarily believe in a "divine plan" or that I do or don't believe in free will. I truly don't know how this whole things works. All I know is that I planned to go to work two weeks ago, but my body had other plans, and a woman on the plane that recently crashed in Buffalo planned to dance with her nephew, but instead, she left this earth.

Just looking at these seeds, I feel a lot of joy. Thinking of how much fun it is to see them pop up through the ground, visualizing the beauty of the plants, and salivating at the thought of the freshly picked vegetables, I've got all of the happiness that I need right now. Everything else that may come along will be gravy, er, vegetables.



Insha' allah, in a few months, I'll be looking at plants instead of seed packets. For now, this will have to do.