Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre
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Ritual Sunday.

Kabir kadre|6 months, 12 days ago

I started Easter Sunday with an early morning meditation followed by a visitation from a witch which seems appropriate. As Caroline proceeded to roust me from bed we tuned into the live stream from the Self-Realization Fellowship with Brother Chidananda offering views on the resurrection of consciousness as exemplified by Christ’s embodied metaphor.

Cassandra had invited us, and it was sweet to think of her (and possibly David and possibly Courtney and Caitlin and others) listening with us from their respective stations on Easter morning in the time of Covid 19.

The service lasted an hour, coinciding almost perfectly with the time it took to bring movement and vitality back to my legs, massage the abdomen to nurture and energize the bowel, clear the morning stool, do some quick maintenance on the suprapubic catheter stoma, check the condition of my skin, and get me dressed and upright.

The morning was chilly and grey. I fired up the heater for the main house as I rolled through the kitchen towards the office. Stopping for a few more moments of conversation with Caroline, we took in a bit of the grocery situation and decided on leftover quiche for breakfast.

“Quiche with yogurt thank you.” And proceeded to my desk.

No campaign updates, “Of course.” I realized, “not only is it the weekend, it’s a holiday.”

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.

I by no means mean to disparage the wrapper, only just to share the they often pass my gaze like an interesting painting in a public place. I tend to be headed already in some direction and may take a few moments to notice, or even find myself relaxing on a bench to take it in, but generally not particularly focused in that direction.

I have to remember and appreciate the meaning and particular value that these days hold for others, with a bit more intention. On my own, they just drift by like a sweet spring breeze.

I settled into the weekly review, first surveying my physical desk for any outstanding paperwork or projects. The new Bluetooth smart phone connected blood oxygen sensor sits in some disarray halfway out of its box. It’s possible my blood oxygen levels drop substantially at night so Mike has advised we run this for a bit. Getting it connected has been another story and will require some technical support I think before it’s resolved.

Next is a review of email inboxes – first the morning’s inbox and then proceed through the inboxes for active business, correspondence, research, matters pending response from others, finance, and today, MettaCare project, identifying any needed matters for attention, addressing those that are small, and adding to my list those that will take more time.

Then a scan of my files to make sure any fleeting ideas are getting routed to someplace to generate action as appropriate, and any of those that have matured into projects are getting the fresh attention and active to do items they deserve. Lastly in the domain of files is to check the downloads folder, the scanning folder, and the desktop for any miscellaneous debris – spontaneous projects – or new material needing to find a home either under active attention or deeper storage.

Then a review of the calendar, and this often feels like the homestretch, looking back a week to make sure I’ve digested and carried forward anything from the previous days engagements, and then looking to the future, scanning for anything I’ll need to prepare for, and starting to organize the week ahead. All the while little scraps get shuffled off to the to do list inbox and the occasional spontaneous birthday text or hello gets the love I want to give.

The final minutes of this weekly effort are spent reviewing projects by name and organizing any simply captured to do items into the appropriate project stream, or initiating a new one.

I generally schedule an hour for this. It often takes 90 minutes.

Sunday is really a very ritualistic day for me. After the Weekly Review, it’s time to read any articles collected from the week before, often from correspondence, but occasionally just from scanning the world and noticing something interesting here or there.

Today’s reading focused largely on various views of what lessons we might take from our current situation, but the piece that had the most juice for me today was just an article by Dr. Brown on the value of having a clear sense of overarching purpose in life.

The document chronicles the researched benefits of Articulating and Operating Out of a Greater Guiding Purpose of Life (there are nine) before delving into a multipart and detailed description of how to bring this about for oneself.

I set aside 2 1/2 hours later this week to do this for myself, and gave copies of the article to each of my care partners, encouraging them to do the same.

Which brings me to the next part of ritual Sunday, correspondence.

As I was finishing reading, the expletives and echoes coming from the garage drew my attention and I decided to investigate.

Caroline brings with her that beautiful quality of the farmer that tends not to hesitate between seeing something that needs doing, or could be made well, and acting on that insight.

Earlier in the morning I had the strangely coronavirus flavored opportunity to meet her partner Paul who was generously stopping by to help Caroline evaluate the fence holding up the flowering vines outside the kitchen window. It’s an area I can’t easily access, but it does fill the window I know with beautiful white flowers and lovely scents for much of the year. Apparently part of the fence is falling over under the weight of the vine and, like a farmer, Caroline had hopped to the task.

That was earlier, Paul had since left to join Caroline’s son and build an addition to the goat pen.

At the aforementioned point of expletives and echoes, Caroline was in the garage having pulled my hand mill out of irrelevance and started on grinding almond flour. This same almond flour was the source of crust for that quiche I mentioned earlier, and had come at great labor and effort when about 10 days ago Caroline had spent an hour hand cranking the perfect texture.

I had purchased the mill about 10 years ago in pursuit of homemade almond butter, but had never had anyone who could quite figure it out and so the mill has been traveling with me, waiting to meet Caroline.

This week we had (and by we I mean she) managed to fit the mill with an adapter that would allow the hand drill to do the cranking for us and hopefully stone grind some flour in short order. The expletives were a result of the fact that even on the slowest setting, and coarsest grinding surface, the plates were either too loose and rattling, or we were getting butter.

Good problem to have in my view.

I nursed Caroline away from the failing endeavor and we chatted over lunch for a bit about various things and nothing in particular. We (and by we I mean she) decided to follow some advice from online and try making the flour in the Vita mix blender instead of the mill.

Spoiler alert – perfect flour in the perfect quantity resulted in about the time it had taken to affix the hand drill adapter. We had a good laugh.

Correspondence today consisted of about 16 outgoing messages of varying lengths and took about two hours to get through.

Again the evening has become the more beautiful time of the day. The now common pastel wisps of high clouds offer their artistic touch to this end of the daylight.

By the time I was completing correspondence around 4 PM, the cold and grey and little bit of spit from the sky had offered no further inspiration towards creative effort in an outward fashion, so I opted inward, spending the remaining portion of the day working towards crafting a digital painting I hope will do justice to the idea of grounding one’s awareness of awareness beyond thoughts, beyond narrow self identity, beyond the construct of time, in the realm of realized awareness dancing for its own realization.

We’ll see of course. 🙂

Thank you for reading.


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