Katie rang in from stormy Florida to do a little prep work for the upcoming Sunday Zoom Kabir/MettaCare AMA (ask me anything.) That conversation left us both giddy and grinning, for many reasons, but not least of which is the fact that Katie is a consummate interviewer and we are excited for the dialogue and artifacts that will be the likely outcome.
Cassandra reports yesterday that the house seems to be reasonably in order, even with the transient population of support. A shower last night, and more personalized body care then and this morning leaves me feeling a bit more intact, somehow able to settle.
Lying still in the morning dark, strange and unsettled dreams wherein I was battling actual monsters intent on my very flesh reverberating through my mind, an agitated sense of time and presence grasping into the future, externalizing my real need for information and rest, subtlety, but not well or clearly planning some goal state of rising. I was focused on progress, but not presence, not integration of the wealth stillness, completeness, fullness, in that moment.
Both of these endeavors felt deeply rewarding and produced tangible outcomes to which we can sit back and breathe for a moment, enjoying the residual sense of satisfaction at jobs well done.
Did people really just pick up and leave Paradise, setting out for more dire situations? Was there really just one enormous bad decision that a large number of individuals made together, consciously at once to end the good life? What in our nature drives us to create our current challenges and how shall we relate to that aspect of ourselves?
This gentle offer of kindness for something that has been looming on my plate, and is yet so simple given the right experience and tools, allowed me for a moment to appreciate in my body what this kind of spontaneous lovingkindness and care can hold as we move through the beauties and challenges of life together.
Visions of illumination rise up my spine and joyfulness crosses my face. Yes, much is still crappy, much is left to be done, and the state of my nervous system is not cooperating to do much more than sit in the sun and try to bake away the discomfort, but underneath all of that, at least there is joy.
The air is fresh and brisk today, the skies clear blue with wispy clouds floating about the upper layers. The sun is nonetheless intense beating down through my freshly shorn hair, and I do mean shorn. A few moments in the direct light produces a fiery tingling sensation on my scalp.
I started writing just after 10 AM today. It is now nearly 11:30, but I was blessed to enjoy an hour of dialogue with my dear brother David searching the crevices of our longing and aspiration for a better and more caring world.
Today has been a long hot day of intense sun. I have baked under it, reddening my face and forehead. The warmth helped to bake away the damp and discomforting dysreflexia. I must forge a path, or perhaps more properly, be forged by it.
The poetry continued on, I read only that much aloud to the sweet woman on her way out the door from caring for me. She choked behind her mask, tears of love and heartbreak to see such sweetness breaking through.
Personally, my own situation has reached something of a fever pitch on all fronts, right down to the level where my primary research today is to determine whether I will need to call an ambulance in the next 48 hours simply to do a number two.
We are biologically hardwired for defense. Threat analysis is always online, sometimes overactive. Were it not for this evolutionary advancement, our ancestors ancestors would have been eaten long before we might have arrived. Mystics long ago recognized that this default to fear must be overcome in order to awaken the deeper possibilities lying dormant in the soul of all beings.
Even so, I count my fortunes. These words to write, this device on which to write them, electricity to power the communication. The gentle fan on the feeling moving air through the well appointed and comfortable bedroom. The spacious area outside, with nature so close. A friend sleeping in the next room, helping as much as she can in these challenging moments of my life.
Home alone this afternoon and not long ago a piercing buzzing alarm sound asserted itself in the household quiet. Thinking the power had gone out everywhere I shutdown my computer and went looking.
Our friend recounted for us, that even as a grown man, watering the plants that he might make the world more beautiful in his own backyard, he must consider each moment whether it is safe to listen to music while he works, or if you must be vigilant for the intrusion of fear and violence in your own backyard.
At least four of the seven days last week, I spent in physical distress which radiates through both the intellectual, emotional, and spiritual aspects to varying degrees as well. In conversations where I had hoped and imagined exquisite insight and connection, I found myself brokenhearted and shattered.
In the end the blood loss was minor, perhaps 400 mL or so, very little of it fresh in appearance and gradually and returned to my senses from a land of intense waves of headache and physical anxiety.
Greetings, today I am serving as the guest author for Kabir Kadre as he is taking a day of rest, unfortunately not on the beach, but abed and on the mend. He is determined to not miss a day in this realm, so please enjoy this offering.
After Dan’s stories, we took a moment to break and then came back together to be led through a guided meditation of remembrance and realization of the gifts of transmission of this awakened master. From this more luminous place, many students then shared particular memories of events and the indelible impression was left upon them for his presence in their lives.
Something was on fire and burning in El Cajon yesterday when Caroline made her way in for the evening, and the sunset made its way around dark and beautiful layers, I took it for clouds at the time, though now I wonder… Clouds of what?
Preparing for the call, Courtney and I had taken our morning spiced coffee and cacao to the little café table out front with the laptop to bring a little nature and fresh air into the dynamic. Today promises to be very hot; Courtney of course laughed at this as San Diego hot doesn’t quite touch the Florida temperatures to which she is accustomed.
After returning from my recovery, now dressed in my cozy fleece pants, soft shirt, and slippers, I settled back to my desk while Courtney began preparations on her usual special, mixed vegetables and spices in the Ayurvedic tradition for dinner. I recorded on my calendar, seven hours of disruption from discomfort in the day.
Freedom, whatever it may be, and certainly alongside justice and respect, must be honored and its debt paid like a river ongoing. Each new moment, a gift, a privilege, and a debt, not a debt to the past of our particular lineage, but to the future of all beings.
In that view, time is precious and I have but the moments of my life with which to forge a path of clarity, beneficence, and impact. When the wind blows a certain way, and the clouds rolling in the sky seem somehow to conspire and my body, as if out of nowhere, reacts with this physical downward spiral, I can feel frustrated. It used to be more so.
America was founded on an ideology of rational objectivity, the rule of rights and laws universal to all, and as long as you didn’t manage to fall into any externalized group not included in “all” these rights and privileges were designed for inured to you.
The stories of horrific mental, physical, and emotional violence perpetrated not only on individuals, men, women, and children alike, but on whole cultures and generations are something that we are going to have to face to move through this ancient affliction towards any hope of a harmony on the other side.
By decompression of course I don’t mean to decompress astrology itself, but just rather in the midst of all that is going on the world, and all of the work that both Tyler and I keep on our plates as a general rule, allowing ourselves to just tumble through the grass of whimsy and reflection seemed to be just the thing.
Living as a fortunate quadriplegic in the time of pandemic, fortunate to have a home, and caregivers who love me (Kabir me), I experience a certain hum of community, of people coming and going, not venturing out (very much) myself in relative terms, but I seem to live, almost as in the Truman Show, the same actors coming and going, the set somewhat limited and bounded by this little corner of the valley in which I reside.
Clearing my way through the flood of communications, I made my way to the video call to reach out and find out what was going on with my dad. The conversation was challenging and difficult, mostly civil, but I had to unpack it with myself, call on a few other friends in the aftermath to gain some perspective.
“ACAB” she said. I looked quizzically, “all cops are bad.” She replied. I felt triggered, tight, and reacted. I didn’t notice of course until later, in the moment, I just lashed out. I cussed an epithet, it’s like saying “they” are all bad! Caroline’s heart broke, and anger flashed across her eyes. “If you ever say anything like that again, I’m leaving and never coming back.”
Waking up was like through some narcotic haze today. Going to bed last night, I thought to myself – this was a hard day, let me see if I can ensure a good night sleep – to Caroline I said, “three drops of melatonin instead of two please.”
Things went smoothly enough, range of motion, a little massage of the lymph and spine, and the morning bowel evacuation, all seemingly normal. Finishing the routine and readying to move into dressing, and there it was, my body turning on a dime down the road to discomfort.
Today my ritual pattern of writing first thing upon rising was broken, like a saucer clattering to the floor…
Yesterday also had some qualities of energetic shift of note. The crowdfunding campaign saw it’s first new life in some time with five new contributors joining the community, some of these friends known to me, but others whose names I’ve only just learned.
My dear integral friends of course would point out the implicate value of measuring not just one, but each of Truth, Beauty, and Morality (I take liberties with “the good, the true, and the beautiful,” and “Art, Morals, and Science,” to which my dear friend Robin often adds Justice.) To which I invite…
I would call myself a lover of wisdom, and I love those who love wisdom. It’s important to me to find the way to both listen (receptively) and to engage (actively) with others in their pursuit (reciprocally) of uncovering and expressing the wisdom that is to be found, so that together we can craft a robust goodness to share and grow in the world.
We settled in the kitchen, still a few minutes before nine while the song echoed in the quiet of the morning. We opened the kitchen door to the garage on the garage door to the morning air and water fall sounds, and Caroline started cutting dried sage into a mason jar for her morning medicinal tea.
Where the “Western mind” has looked outward into nature, the skies, and down into subatomic particles in our search for meaning and truth, the “Tibetan mind” took a different route, instead of focusing on the phenomenal experience, they turned the lens inward to study the process and nature of the “looking” itself.
Last night as I sat in the dining room, thumbing through YouTube as is my habit while Cassandra makes dinner and we chat lightly back and forth, I came across a video description: “David Blaine will guess your card through the Internet.”
It’s another beautiful day, and warming, we opened up the house first thing on making our way out of the bedroom and I can hear the sound of the waterfall out front bubbling its way through the garage, and kitchen, to my ear.
I try to keep good notes in my calendar in order to reflect easily on where and in what I’ve done, also just for clerical purposes in case I need to follow up on something. Yesterday has a three hour gap in the middle of the day. Not that nothing was done, only that it was broken into many bits, each with varying degrees of depth and importance, a block of tending, yet I felt extended.
The theme of root and plant and interpenetrating connection flowed through yesterday as Courtney spent the morning on the porch planting and repotting, while I studied the words, roots of meaning extending into the earth, of a client STAGES protocol.
As I look in these moments, I’m not surprised to find this quality of subtle disruption emergent even earlier in the day. Waking just a little heavy and sitting to meditate, after just 15 minutes the fluids in my throat had dropped to congest an airway giving me fits of hacking with which to practice, or disrupt my meditation.
Isn’t that the place, where trust and faith shine? When we truly honor our humility as naked, blinking, innocent animals arising in a vast mystery extending in every direction, inward and outward, beyond measurements of up and down, what other life raft of self seeing is there except surrender and faith?
The horrific absurdity of our situation – people without food in one place, food rotting in the fields are being destroyed or poured out in another. Such ridiculous medieval problem, while the accuracy force of our destructive powers have been refined with laser precision.
The morning was spent primarily focused on exploring David’s emerging approach to the multi-capitals of care, a part of our MettaCare dialogue that begins to open up a multidimensional awareness of where care flows from, through, and to in the field of an individual. For example, recognizing the benefits of nature right alongside banking relationships, neighborhood support and engagements, and once orientation to faith and spirituality.
I’ve also been experiencing more autonomic dysreflexia lately which has been a bit of a hindrance to daily work; the source of the discomfort have remained a bit of a mystery and has brought me to the point of today attempting to re-simplify my diet. I’ve been eating well lately, farm style and ayurvedic meals with lots of good spices and proteins mixed with greens.
Finally at the end of the two hours, our lovely facilitator graciously closed the session, thanking everyone for their time, attention, and participation, people waving and smiling started to blank out of the virtual conference room. As the numbers started to dwindle, I called out cheerfully, “whose job is it any way to bounce us out of this party?”
I feel like I am still catching my stride, writing in this new habit of morning. I’m grateful for the privilege to be able to compose, both for the tools, the time, and the mind to do so.
Many shifts recently, from change in the weather to an uptick in Ayurvedic dietary support, increased physical support with range of motion going longer and moving into the abdomen, chest, and shoulders, the turning, turning world remains in motion, novelty and uncertainty at every turn.
By the time I reach the desk in the morning, something of note has always transpired – at the very least I have had the good fortune that someone kind and generous has arrived with the intent to retrieve me from bed. Undoubtedly there has been conversation, and smiles, possibly some “adventure” having to do with the difficulties of a paralyzed body, there has been movement and focus, perhaps a podcast, and days like today, even a little creativity.
Of course that led us to phone a friend as Greg, having grown up in the wilds of Africa was our go to person to assess the final distinctions of hyena ferocity and chances of the silverback gorilla opting for friendliness.
My first visit to Elder Farm was an exquisite and peaceful long slow walk from the car, through the meadows, past the goat pen to the gardens, sacred kitchen, and back. 12 goats, two cats, one VERY small dog, and friends new and old for companions bore witness to a peaceful and still afternoon in the sun’s warmth and still green landscape, fresh from recent weeks rains and filled with the life of early summer.
Meanwhile I’m still working through the sensations of pensive anxiety while applying myself to the work I can see to do. The direct path to financial solvency and a fully operational growth and well-being model for the team here remains shrouded in the mists of uncertainty. This leaves me on the threshold of surrender – do the work, make the prayers, wait-and-see…
She arrived and we had a few nice moments to check-in and catch up and then I was off to the next conversation, this time with a geographically diverse group of international individuals focused on emergent models of practice in self-care, relationships, and business with the intention to move towards a more global harmony.
There is a sadness for the loss we are all living in, there is a sadness for the loss yet to come, there is a joy for the beauty we have been, and bliss for all that remains.
The mystery of the pandemic looms – is it coming to a close? Will we see a resurgence? If so, what will be its character? If it goes now, what sense will it leave in its wake? Have we been rattled to the core yet? Has our various identification with self and role and society been upset in some way that will become detectable as we moved to “reassemble?”
Sleep last night was mixed leaving me uncertain of just how much of it I got. It seems I feel rested enough for now. Rising was slow and through dreams, and then meditation in the quiet of the room, and then Caroline’s arrival in her black linen farm skirt, dark flannel shirt, and bone colored tasseled scarf.
The world has changed in the months since I last ventured out. Old ocean view parking spots have been paved over and replaced with sidewalks. Once familiar restaurants, boarded up or shuttered while others seem to have adapted for the time to the takeout style of service.
I’m still reconciling the feelings of having a predator of this nature in the neighborhood while the small birds which I have enjoyed in plenty as they bathe and drink and play in the stream in the morning, or flitter about the windows as I work at my desk are clearly now on the menu.
I keep finding myself wanting to return to the word privilege. The days will become warmer now. A hummingbird dances under the canopy of the pine outside. The light is fading, evening mist rises off the ocean become the humid clouds of the coastal night. By grace there is much I have to be grateful for. Even recognizing this is a privilege.
It’s been a while since I simply sat and enjoyed a piece of music with my eyes closed, feeling the notes and melody moving my body from within. As I sat listening, still with my eyes closed, I noticed with a smile all the sounds of the clarinet had crept in and were now animating subtle movements in my face, arms, shoulders, and torso. Nice work Robert. 😉
Of course there are variables we can play with in the state of these agreements to source processes of greater abundance in terms of health, resilience, and other wealth measurements for all involved. Identifying these variables and understanding their movements and pressures is a part of what makes MettaCare of value.
In all I was desk to desk in about two hours, head still a little spinning, not sure if it’s from the fresh air, movement, or some other catalyst but I am feeling a certain subtle quality of disorientation in the aftermath. I feel quite confident I’ve never had this experience from leaving home, however it does have a familiar taste to that of leaving the hospital after an extended internment.
Lunch also was outside, smoothie and coffee, and the Cooper’s hawk that seems to have moved into the neighborhood. I’m very much enjoying the budding friendships emerging with both Caroline and Courtney in this new turning of the wheel. It is one of the fine privileges of needing care – the relationships that are possible can be quite deep and rich.
Although in the earliest days of my injury I opted for the optimistic view (as it turns out I always do), anticipating a full recovery and in no way identifying with myself as “patient,” or “healthcare focused,” again and again my attention has been reoriented to that field. Indeed, with 150,000 frontline hours, I probably have something to offer there.
I have certainly been out beyond the folds, collecting treasure for the community, it is the journey home that is unfamiliar to me. Thanks to guides I have met along the way, I have a few magic stones to help me learn the path.
The next step which I have happily made it substantially through today is to simply collate all of that material into some rough semblance of order and to cull through it to determine what essentially is present and begin to shape that form that will emerge as the diamond from the center of all of these perspectives.
Somehow it’s a bit more romantic to contemplate the placement of the physical bodies of the earth and moon and stars in relation to one another as a measurement of time, in contrast to checking off the months named for old Roman gods (once planets themselves if I understand correctly…)
I can feel new muscles and new intelligences coming into play, stretching, and finding their legs. I wrote a grant last year (unfunded) to the John Templeton Foundation and really had to learn to refine a message and fit it into a particular format. I sense those skills will come to bear here, although this will be the next level of listing for an audience and framing the story, with a bit more room to breathe.
Considering the day now from early evening under grey skies, my body is continuing the pattern of autonomic dysreflexia discomfort that it seems to have been locked in for the past four or five hours. In this state, my cognitive capacities are rather diminished and my attention flips around a bit like a fish out of water. It is from this state that I craft these words.
Generally speaking my care has been exceptional which provides, fortunately, very little opportunity to introduce new care partners to the appearance, degradation, treatment, and subsequent healing of skin breakdown. With the bulk of my care now being provided by new partners only just developing familiarity with my body, context, and dynamics, it’s not surprising that this morning we discovered some “not too early” issues with pressure areas forming.
After an hour or so I stepped back to take a breath and found myself quite in awe of how easy it is to stay busy chasing little fires, and how profoundly much generous creativity can flow forth when we give ourselves permission to focus on the things we are passionate about. Of course I say “we,” I really don’t know if it’s that way for others, I suspect it is, it certainly always have been for me. Today I guess I was just really noticing the contrast.
As the conversation carried on, I found myself simply re-intrigued with each passing moment. At times I had to dim the volume and tear myself away for a few minutes at a time to attend to the various items of the day that would refuse procrastination, and each time I returned eagerly to find more exciting insights, developments, and raw human expression in our collective quest to nurture the future of medicine.
In spite of the sleepless night and high-traffic morning, I was at my desk by 9 AM with just 30 minutes to spare before I would have to pull together some coherence of cognition and spirit to host a dialogue with a handful of modest luminaries
The last of the locks hit the ground and Cassandra dusted the bits of hair from me and the wheelchair while Caroline brushed up the bits from where the deed had been done, scattering the evidence into the flowerbeds to repel pests. With the jobs done, the three of us retreated indoors away from the now quite scorching summer-ish sun.
There are other stories I could recount of the latter half of last year and the first quarter of this, stories from others of similar nature. Powerful movements of energy leaving us reeling and overwhelmed. As if some of us have the privilege of undergoing a pregame warm-up for the experience we are now sharing as a global people.
I was approaching this project in February, though through a much constricted lens and greater external and self-imposed pressures. I started to reorganize the project on Saturday and was looking forward this morning my call with Dave.
I try to spend each day in gratitude, recognizing the generosity of others, honoring the cycles of the earth and seasons, reawakening myself and others, appreciating the initiation and industry of tribe, culture, city state, nation, and world, in essence honoring the holidays, but without the wrapper.
Of course life in my body is close to my mind. Here in my home where I have not left for nearly 6 weeks, and will likely stay for six more, the world is small. Courtney arrives this afternoon and I meet her with a smile. Caitlin arrived this morning and I met her with a smile.
I imagined, as I often do, that I had much to do today and turned back to my calendar and list, but not before taking a moment to gaze out the window at the rain and feel appreciation for the beautiful people in my life, both those still embodied, and those beyond.
The morning started out innocently enough, just the usual clearing of the inbox, checking of the stats, and general organization. I was able to respond a few requests for small effort on my part to move projects forward and to thank this morning’s new contributor to the campaign.
In the relative spacious moment of today, I saw a very different picture. The first thing I noticed was the pressure of urgency I had felt and how that had compressed not only my thinking on the subject, but my ability to contextualize the focus within my own wider sense of purpose and initiative.
It’s on my mind this evening – another nature spectacular evening with strong winds up high driving the clouds like racecars to cover the blue and break up, filling with light, only to race on, a painted grey flickering the light from the setting sun.
Last night as Caroline and I endured a marathon bowel program that left both of us spent and exhausted, we treated ourselves also to the podcast interview on the Mindfulness Mode of Dr. Dan Brown whom I’ve mentioned here on numerous occasions. The subject was of course “Awakening.” It seems an apropos thread to be carrying through this window of time when all of our systems are laid so bear before us.
Please note the change of authorship for this post.
These are the first people I’ve seen other than our care team, and one interviewee who didn’t make the cut since my last visitors nearly one month ago. The scene was odd and awkward. Some of us masked, others not, ideas of the recommended 6 foot distancing seemed to vary perceptively between about 3 feet and about 10 feet. Regardless, with hidden mouths, distance, and the gurgling stream in the background, conversation was loud and a little broken.
In a certain sense, the point of my life as I see it is really to lean into a tremendous aspiration and unflinching optimism for a possible goodness and beauty transcendent of the pain and suffering of the moment. While this appears, to some degree, as a personal aspiration, the tendency of the emotion as it grows through my being, expressed into the world, is more of a vision for what is possible for us as a species.
Some are patiently waiting for the whole thing to blow over. Others, powder dry, waiting to reenter the market. Others prepping for End of Days, and countless more stumbling through an existential discomfort not seen for generations, destined to recover or end up where…?
I tried this morning to doze after the home health nurse came around to change my catheter just after 8 AM. I struck up my usual conversation – usual recently anyway – inviting us to prepare mentally and emotionally for the likely onslaught of deaths attributed to the pandemic.
My heart broke open. The effort and care that it took to establish the campaign – the writing and reflecting and refining – has met someone where they are, in a position of vulnerability, and has added value and some strengths to their condition. I hereby declare the campaign a wild and overwhelming success!
Astrology is BS they say. Good news for you if you agree. Jupiter, the amplifier is aligned perfectly with Pluto, the underworld experience. Simultaneously, Saturn the strict boundary keeper and enforcer is aligned perfectly with the God of war. The latter two “squared” into awkward flair with Uranus, the bringer of novelty…
Perhaps the most profound impact I felt in the teaching today had to do with recognizing and honoring the importance of our human connections. As Dan led us through a guided visualization/meditation starting with our own deepest wholeness and well-being, and expanding out until we were appreciating our own sense of love and care for all of humanity, my heart softened – to me imperceptibly.
Thanks right now to the community of people that have come together thus far in support of my crowdfunding initiative, today is the first Sunday in months, probably since November, that I have felt the capacity to simply be spacious; the weekly review ritual went somehow faster than usual, somehow at leisure I was able to read a few articles passed my way in recent days and weeks by friends, venture outside into the sun and make a few calls, continue the thread of correspondence answering emails, chatting on the phone, enjoying the video connection across the continent…
When I started writing these entries, the world was ordinary in my life within it was in crisis. Today the world is in crisis, and my life within it has become distinctly non-ordinary.
Bob Dylan released a new song today on an old subject. As I look around the world at the successes and failures of our modern rationalist capitalist approach, I’m reminded that we are where we are, and we got here along a certain path.
The weather report says rain, the light agrees, but the sky has barely spit today. High cumulus clouds drift against a backdrop of blue, sunlight coming and going here on the ground while the wind teases blustery day between moments of calm.
For the first time in months, I can feel a sense of ground under my feet, not just the firm hands of those few and close loving souls attempting to slow my fall, but actual ground. A sense of community, and network of support with care running not just to me, but through a meshwork of relationships and love.
Taking this contagion risk seriously really is a hard question that arises somewhere at the intersection of science and emotion… Where is foolish, where is serious, where is too much? My guess is that most of us can answer those questions pretty easily and pretty quickly in the moment, but I find those answers often get jelly legs when subject to further questioning…
Well Charles, good news, my life continues to be good for literature with plot points successively unfolding.
Though I’m a little concerned that whoever is writing this life is a bit enthusiastic with the twists…
March 22, 2020 – we really have yet to comprehend the nature of our situation. The opportunity is for recognizing our power and vulnerability.
As the waters of the world continue to quicken and my own path narrows, springtime creeps in with the dance of birds and new growth. The planet continues to turn, life coming and going on its surface, much as it has done for most of its 4 billion years. Anthem music plays, and stillness… And we in our drama unfold.
Finding uneasiness and disorientation of my own making, the terrible uncertainty of a pandemic context, and rays of sunlight from faces and sky, I feel alive in the balance of life and death, grateful for the gifts I have to offer, and happier still when I can remember their presence.
“Life is but a dream” they tell us when we are young. Singing the words, as if in a trance, and never quite realizing the truth behind them… Today the world feels more dreamlike than I ever recall in this life. How to love through the dream, have compassion, connection, and care for one another… These are the questions of the day.
Not running from the pain, nor running towards the light, the middle way – some call it, I like the word equanimity. The literal recognition and realization of the light and shadow dancing on the screen of the mind. No grasping, reification, or projection, only acceptance.
Everywhere we look the ship seems to be coming apart, but somehow rays of light and connection keep holding things together, a little bit here, and a little bit there… I’m reminded of the imaginal cells metaphor from inside the chrysalis of the butterfly.
If my words ramble today, it is only a mirror of the rambling state of our mad mad world. I hope you will find them light and loving, a prayer for your own well-being through this long weather we are having…
A long day after a short night, yet somehow, in the lovely glow of the evening sun, it seems good work has been done. The world, in turmoil, has gone to pandemonium, and somehow we are finding some stillness in the midst of the storm.
Between the rains, the world and my life washed in the storm, in this medium of madness, the ripples of help become visible. Now with the opportunity to see that help more clearly, to study, to practice, and to learn it more fully.
A day of lesser rain in week of storms, and ebb morning with flow afternoon into evening, all following a sleepless night.
Quiet day, rain falling steadily outside, a rain of words meets the pages in response to a loving morning message from Dave. Binding myself to the mast of stillness and faith through the storms of my own inequity in the world about me…
The boat is certainly rocking, and my little dinghy is no exception. I will ride these waves, paddling when I can, but remaining sure to sing a little song each day, a prayer that those notes of voice, these artifacts of words will ring some love and light to some heart somewhere…
Karma, habit, burns away in the consecrated effort of sincere aspiration. “The only reward for hard work is the capacity for more hard work.” The sign said above the door at my dear friends home. When we set aside those rigid structures of persistent attachment to the past, it’s incredible how much energy is liberated to meet the present moment and create futures filled with light and beauty.
zero is where the real fun is at
there’s too much counting everywhere else”
Sunday in a daze after daylight savings time, I trust I’m not alone.
When I look for my faith, certain it has been lost, I find that one cannot look for faith without finding it. Faith and mind and the world that is one with that mind are inseparable. I exist as faith, and cannot but express it with every breath.
Some kind of holding pattern filled with energy yet numb. Love and circulation, yet solitude. A wide open expanse of time, the end of time looms…
Seeking to be practical, seeking to honor possibilities, seeking not to disappoint those who have placed their investments in me, seeking to find the way of love, seeking to find the right surrender. How do we understand the capitals of wealth in our lives, how do we respond with wisdom, skillful means, and grace?
The world seems so full, and I so full within it. So full of grief, so full of ecstasy, so full of fear and life and death and flowers and friends and loneliness. Where in this fullness do I discover the vastness of space that is that seed of precious existence itself?
The day begins with increased uncertainty, increased instability, some kind of surrender, some kind of resolve.
Part two in the description of a week of sickness and hospitalization. Home now, but what is recovery?
Home from the hospital and still moving at Mach 3. As a matter of principle, 800 words referencing the adventure, as a matter of practicality, still to be revisited…
The plot point arrives this morning. Dramatic changes in available care appear near on the horizon. Fire glints in the eye of the Dragon, what next…
After a good lashing from Charles for losing the thread of the story, I attempt to return to the arc with clarity and with purpose, a few more days will tell how I have done…
Narration of the days events, in part as usual. I interrupted the writing near the end to call Charles and found a helpful critique drawing my attention towards the arc of story. I will endeavor henceforth to bring a more careful inquiry to my process of giving voice to story in my way.
A weary Wednesday, but perhaps the end of a difficult moment. Friendship, connection, and views…
In the wash of life, aren’t we all just in some sense a blend of saint and sinner, warmth and cool, wellness and decay? Are we ourselves, the inner feelings of being, destined to come and go? And yet are we also not the raindrops of love that eventually fill the ocean?
The week begins on a holiday, slow, but with nourishing connections, resolved if oblique efforts, and perhaps just enough peace in the face of discomfort to meet the squirrels in battle…
Charles asked for the basic whodunit, I hope I have obliged. 🙂
Busy Saturday, family, love, friendship, joy, tears.
With nothing to write about, I looked into empty space, I looked into an empty mind, and stories poured fourth…
Even though the trauma of my karma nips at my flesh, even though the trauma of the world threatens so many lives I hold dear, even though… Even though.
An exhale from the pace of work and effort felt lately, gives rise to feelings of appreciation, elation, depression, and return to well-being.
Having walked an uncertain path of looming shadows, terrifying forms, and glimmering lights, we have crested the hill. Footing still uneasy, but gate more committed than ever, I and my dear compatriots begin our descent into the valley of the future.
A full and complete Monday, fulfillment and exhaustion, no doubt on both…
Narrating a rainy Sunday from the familiar rituals of mornings discipline through the endnotes of a creative flourishing and budding.
A day of seeming generativity and perceived good fortune, is found a little suspicious through the lens of the sleepless night before.
A pleasant enough day took an unfortunate turn at the end. Nothing ruinous, just an odd close, perhaps to honor the full moon.
Taking a moment for some of the more difficult feelings; it’s always a bit like inspecting closely as we brushed the flakes of dust off the window. They have their own beauty and sparkle, and as we go, much glory is revealed.
A short story on the blessings of technology, and tacos.
It’s the little victories… Today, it was easy rising, a good meditation, good fortune in meeting kind members of the community, good and heartfelt conversation with a friend, the first workout I’ve had in a while, and the privilege and opportunity to labor for others. May all beings have good fortune. May all beings be well and happy.
The first week of February is off with a bang! Celebrating new clarity, new certainty, new friendship, and old, mostly just a simple recounting of the day from the feeling of deep appreciation, gratitude, and joy.
At the end of an 11 hour Sunday workday, while the world of America echoed cheers of Super Bowl madness, I offer a humble bow to my writing mentor.
The boundaries of the world are falling away. So many little agencies, we call them countries, struggling to harmonize in a globe gone marketplace, struggling to harmonize their own internal coherence.
What we are looking for, is a reciprocity of identity. For us as a species, we must learn to listen, to see, to feel each other more skillfully; not only as individuals, but as cultures and ideologies, Christians, Muslims, Jews, capitalists and socialists, left and right, we need to learn to let each other in, to be touched and changed by one another. Not only as individuals, but as collectives, we need these vulnerabilities to express in the genomes of our DNA.
This is true for me personally, for my engagement in the world will not persist and thrive if I do not make this leap of realization today.
What is generosity? What does it mean to receive? What happens when we do these things? What gets broken, and what gets born? How do we suffer love, give kindness, and share the fullness of ourselves with one another?
Today was an exquisite day of practice and privilege with some truly remarkable gifts of leadership.
One of the central themes I’m drawing from my journey through its recent forests and high mountain passes is the theme of reciprocity.
Just a Wednesday narrative from sleep to supper, with work, service, and sun in between…
Coming to the page with nothing but a broken heart to share, I found that I had so much more…
The narration of a day, the end of the year, the beginning.
The arc of the day reveals gifts in the way to gifts…
Ramblings at the end of a long day…
I come to these words (these words, not those words) through a body filled with spasticity. I imagine perhaps a little dehydration may have to do with that.
As the light faded outside, a warm golden glow piercing the chill of the January evening, I could feel the creeping tension in my flesh. Muscles contracting, both specifically and generally throughout my being; an unpredictable turbulence in the little ocean of presence.
A narrative of Tuesday, January 21, or parts of it. Curiosity about the friendliness of depression, and how we dance with them…
As I continue to write and publish (this is now two weeks I think), I remain curious about the through line for this blog. I notice writing, in many articles, and even on some platforms takes the approach of creating a sense of “Answer.”
I think that is not what this is about. True to my thesis of Wisdom Dialogue, I think it’s more about discovering rich questions, and soaking in the feelings that they can generate…
In response to my friend Charles, I consider the nature and quality of “my” external situation. What are the qualities of the outside world, and how do we position ourselves internally to meet that in the most generous and capable ways?
Early moments of a remarkable journey, circling back…
Yesterday someone near to me, but once removed was born. Yesterday, someone a little further away, but not so far, died.
This is the reciprocity of life, what else is?
We all live our lives inside of stories – stories of our identities, stories of our dreams, stories of our fears, our past, our capacities and obstacles, stories of those around us, stories of what is true and unbending, stories of what is false and stupid. We create these stories together, and we create them alone, stories of the stories we have created with others…
I live in the story, for example, that we create stories, and in writing this here, I live in the story that it is useful to do so, and that these words will be read by you dear reader, at some point in the future.
So in the absence of useful practical action, I turn to the useful practical action of telling some relevant stories, both to myself out loud, and for others who may connect to these stories and find an interest in engaging with me in some useful practical actions.
So that is what I did today. I told stories,
… To digress, for you other readers, for a moment; these writings I have begun here are a return in reverence to a project I undertook in 2013 and 2014. The project was called simply “Letters to Charles,” and was an acceptance of my dear friend Charles’s invitation to me to practice writing on a daily basis by sending at least 100 words to him by email.
Charles is a remarkable soul, and among many other things, a well read and accomplished writer in his own right. His daily replies to my letters served as an invaluable source of both encouragement and critique to help me hone not only the discipline of actually writing, but actually to hone the discipline of writing well. I do pray that these lines here reflect that, and not some terrible contradiction of that assertion. 😉
Here in the early days of the Donald J Trump presidency in the United States, things are getting interesting (still.)
Ghandi said “be the change.” Faced with modern global complexities such as climate change, rising class disparity, and social and political instability, what does that really mean?
We are Open Field Awakening.
We are a collective of deep friendships, spiritual and business partners, living and creating together in community. We have a practitioner’s home – where we practice explicitly waking up to and with one another. We employ various somatic, psycho-, and spiritual intelligences, from ancient to emergent.
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…