Love seems to be a theme…
The magic of the Internet, so plain these days, so easy to take for granted. And yet here I am, just back from two hours with new and old friends on four continents. Ancient wisdom and teachings in modern words and context.
Photos of Yellowstone National Park, images and voices from over a thousand miles away streaming in, my friend Tom, in real time sharing technical troubles with our virtual room from a far coast as if we were shoulder to shoulder.
The Internet bends time and space. The mind bends time and space. The Internet is the mind? Surreally, I digress…
Quiet Wednesday evening. LB is reading on the back porch in the evening air as the sun drips down towards the hillsides and trees to the west. The house open, yet still warm near 7 PM. The water clapping on stones on the front hillside, its voice echoes through the entryway and into the house, somehow accenting the silence, not breaking it.
Stephanie and I ventured out today, her first training on the electric car, through the neighborhood and winding roads, obscure passageways behind the trees lining the freeway, and then onto the freeway and on to the coast to the market for bread and honey, and then back, rushing inland, nearly late, and then late to see the good Dr. King.
Not that Dr. King, though the morning news reminding us of Jacob’s martyrdom did incite us to explore the conversation on race and privilege and if and when these tragedies will ever end. That Dr. King whose face and name have become synonymous with the long, too long, struggle to overcome, we did not get to see today, except in our minds eyes and hearts. The other Dr. King.
A humble and quiet osteopath living and working in obscure corners in San Diego, and yet his is a work that has endured somehow for, perhaps dozens, of centuries. The laying on of hands, the listening, the feeling with all of the senses deeply to communion with the truth and essence of wellness and healing.
That Dr. King. What grace and good fortune to have those tensions focus on this mortal form.
Patience was in again today, adding more color (literally) to the room down the hall. Three walls have changed their hue, and a peace Lily now decorates an ornate table at the corner of the otherwise empty space. To be fair, there are a few construction remnants yet to find a home at the far end, but their presence pales in the face of the emerging rainbow of light and texture.
Tomorrow we will see the nurse again for a catheter change, and Dr. Mike will visit directly. We will meet and interview Vanessa for the position of care partner, and the following day will meet another Vanessa, physical therapist to help us continue to fine tune the wheelchair.
My body sweats ever so slightly through much of the day today, response to ongoing discomfort. Meditation in the morning in the quiet of the room, and meditation this evening in the company of the teacher and the sangha, likely play the lion’s share of the role of the surrender that endures this offense to the senses.
The water continues to tighten, and I continue to splash about.
Prayers for love. Love. Love. So much ignorance and loss, still, with good fortune… Privilege, the light inside discovers itself flickering in the world.
God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…