Longing

October 14, 2011 By

This frog who lives in my studio is always at peace.

“My mind works in idleness.  To do nothing is often my most profitable way.”

Viriginia Woolf

The peace I gathered and brought home from my recent retreat to the beach has worn off.  Until this week I was able juggle all that I needed and wanted to do without overwhelm.  But this week it hit me that suddenly the feeling of freedom had disappeared and my chronic dis-ease with too much to do with too little time, struck like a bolt of lightning.

Amidst dealing with a crew of painters working on the outside of my house, looking after an ailing dog, the daily stuff of laundry, and cooking, I’ve not been able to have extended moments of time to stare into space, when sweet epiphanies come my way and help me through the difficulties of writing and life.

I need time when there isn’t constant chatter going on just outside my window. I’ve had enough of men banging about with ladders and Molly and Sam responding with non-stop yapping in response.  It’s been going on and off for two weeks and because my studio is above the garage, and the only way I can get to it is up a flight of outdoor steps, I’m currently locked out and have had to drag my computer into the house to the guest room, where the elderly card table I’m using as a desk bounces about as I type

There is Bill, my beloved, in the next room, making phone calls and recording a CD of his lines in Act I of the play he will be acting in come December.  He’ll replay that darn thing until he’s learned his lines and then he’ll record Act II and begin again.  I long to be back in my studio where the peace and quiet I love lives.

We’ve had monsoon-like rains for the last several days and the painting, though mostly done, had once again been postponed until things dry out.  If the sun comes out and keeps shining this afternoon and tomorrow, the painters will come and put the final coat of paint on the studio stairs, finish up the doors and do a clean-up.  I’m praying that my last day in the guest room will be tomorrow and that by Sunday I’ll be at peace again, tucked away in the room I claim as my own.

Filed Under: Animals I Love, Life, Wise Words

My Donkey

October 9, 2011 By

“For most of us, and for most of modern culture, the body is principally seen as the object of our ego agendas, the donkey for the efforts of our ambitions. The donkey is going to be thin, the donkey is going to be strong, the donkey is going to be a great yoga practitioner, the donkey is going to look and feel young, the donkey is going to work eighteen hours a day, the donkey is going to help me fulfill my needs, and so on. All that is necessary is the right technique. There is no sense that the body might actually be more intelligent than “me,” my precious self, my conscious ego.”

Reginald Ray, Touching Enlightenment

Self Portrait taken while fooling around with my Ipad.

Found this the other morning in my mail box, one of the daily quotes I get from Daily Dharma, and wow, did it hit home.  My poor donkey is aging and tired a good part of the time and I realize I’ve been doing nothing but abusing her for years.

But what’s a donkey owner to do?

As I grow older, the days grow shorter and I need to get stuff done before I leave this planet.  I’ve beaten my donkey into pushing through the “To-D0” list, that seems to grow by leaps and bounds every day.  When she begs for a nap, eyes slowly closing, head nodding off then snapping upright again, I shake her, explaining that we must continue so that at least today’s to-dos are checked off.  If we don’t we might have start getting up at 5 AM.

In a new Yoga class just a few days ago, I felt embarrassed and ashamed in front of all of my friends, because my donkey couldn’t do what their donkeys were doing.  I wanted to be out front with the best.  Can an almost sixty-nine-year-old donkey be as good as a crowd of thirty-somethings?  Guess I need to go back to the Gentle Yoga class I was attending with girls my own age.

It’s not as if I don’t exercise on a daily basis.  I warm up each morning with a fifteen minute trot around the block with Molly and Sam.  Then if the creek hasn’t risen and the sun is shining, I take myself for a power walk, after which I do a thirty minute combo of stretching, body rolling, and Pilates.  If the weather is nasty, I’ll climb aboard the old cross-trainer in my studio.  Once a week I work out with my Pilates instructor.  She and my massage therapist tell me that my body is in a constant state of fight or flight.  So I added Gentle Yoga as an additional way of trying to get the kinks out,  stretching the tight tendons and learning further about relaxation.

What to feed my donkey?  Though I’m versed in healthy lifestyles, I can’t seem to get control when it comes to what is on her plate.  She’s always starving, loves fresh leafy greens, rice and fruit, but has been and could again become a raging sugar addict because of what I like to feed her.  Lot’s of sweet things like cupcakes.  Then there are salty things, like roasted cashews, and also cheese … a lovely sharp cheddar from Vermont.  Her digestive tract doesn’t feel too good when I make her eat lots of that stuff and she complains.  But it sure does taste good!

Bill and I recently attended a talk on SUGAR by Gary Taubes, whose books, Good Calories, Bad Calories and Why We Get Fat, gives us the low-down on what we’re doing to our donkeys as individuals and as a society.  By consuming the huge amount of sugar we do, we’re becoming a world of obese humans and susceptible to many more serious ailments like diabetes, cancer and Alzheimer’s disease.  Bill has decided to give sugar up.  In six days, he lost 6 pounds without making any other changes.

For the moment, I’m doing okay with food, getting close to being vegetarian, but not giving up chicken, dairy or fish.  Last time I tried it I got very sick.  This time I’m studying India’s Science of Life, Ayurveda, and finding out what foods are good for my unique combinations of Doshas.  But it’s hard to give up those things that I love like the cashews, cheese and crunchy granola loaded with honey, even though my donkey tells me she feels much better without them.

Maybe if I give in to feeding her the things she really wants and needs, I can get her to work harder so we can get through the to-do list in record time!
Filed Under: Animals I Love, Healthy Living, Life, Wise Words

My New Year …

September 3, 2011 By

Most people celebrate the New Year on January 1st.  I do celebrate then too, but it is September 1st, that is the true New Year’s Day for me.  I think it has something to do with loving school and learning. When I was kid, I adored getting a new dress for the first day of school, and shoes of course.  I would have preferred shiny, black patent-leather Mary Janes, but mostly I got brown and white saddle shoes.

Then there were the new pencils with a special box to keep them in, along with erasers in tiny animal shapes.  A notebook, very sturdy, and whatever else I could talk my mother into, made it an exciting time of year.  Almost as good as Christmas!  There were no ipads, ipods, or computers back then.  But what I did have, I loved and treasured.

For me, September and fall, means it’s time to get serious.  Gone are the frilly salad days of summer.  Now I tend toward more substantial things, like hearty soups and stews.  A pot roast simmering away in the slow cooker is cause to celebrate, along with pumpkin or apple pie, and at breakfast, bowls of steaming oatmeal, with plain yogurt, walnuts, raisins and honey … sometimes I throw in an over-ripe banana.

It’s time for sweaters. Turtlenecks and over-sized bulky cardigans that I can wrap myself in on a cold autumn day, as I rustle my way through the dense carpet of leaves gathering on the ground.  Socks are cozy and my footwear of choice inside the house.  No slippers, just socks, thick, colorful, and the crazier the design the better.

It’s still warm here, but the nights are cooling down as the days shorten.  My sleep is deeper, and throughout the fall and winter, I love sleeping with a window slightly ajar, snuggled up in wool blankets, only my nose showing, to breathe in crisp air, lightly scented with wood smoke.  That’s heaven in my book.

And speaking of books, it’s the time of year when I do the most reading.  The stack of reading material next to my chair tends to grow and I often find myself reading 3 books at once, going from one to another, as my mood changes.  That is getting a bit frustrating though, as I try to unlearn my multitasking habits.  So I’ll narrow it down to two books.   One to read during the day, usually something I’m interested in learning about and don’t want to doze off while I’m reading. For the evenings, I like something a bit lighter that I can easily find my way back to, after it’s fallen out of my hands to the floor as sleep overtakes me.

This year, I’ve enrolled in three classes that will start later in the month. I’ve chosen two through the UVA Ollie program (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute),  Writing your Life and The Examined Life, as a way to keep me writing and getting feedback on what I’ve been pouring out on to paper.  They each meet once a week for 6 weeks.

My herbalist, is offering an 8 week class in Ayurveda, an ancient way of taking care of oneself, from India.  We will learn about its history, and how to apply it to live a healthy life style.  Part yoga, food prep, and discussion, it will help me as I continue to try to keep myself from becoming what I call, a rocking chair granny.  I want to leave this planet moving, not sitting on my front porch watching the world go by.

I am risking my sanity a bit, I suppose.  My time is pretty much spoken for through the fall and I worry some about having time for making art.  But I’m very excited about the learning I will be doing. I intend to keep up a regular exercise routine and putter about the garden as well.   If I can keep the overwhelm and I have to do everything parts of myself under control it should be a great time.  I do expect a visit from one or both of these companions from time to time, but it seems to get easier as I continue to set my limits, listen to my body, and understanding that I am not going for a PhD.

So, once again, Happy New Year.  I hope your fall will be as exciting as mine is looking.

Filed Under: Classes, Life, The Seasons

What’s Next?

August 29, 2011 By

Last week after hearing of our earthquake and the coming hurricane, a friend from California emailed me asking, “What’s Next?”  Sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball, but then I rethink saying, “No, that isn’t what I want.”

On days like today, what I truly desire is for everyone, (those I know and don’t know) to be free from suffering. That includes all creatures, great and small.  I sit and do a loving kindness meditation and then ruminate on what I can do.   More often that not, I find myself drowning in overwhelming guilt, unable to do more than donate some money if it is needed and stay out-of-the-way of those who have the skills to truly be of help.

Today is no exception.  As I listen to news from Vermont, hard hit by Tropical Storm Irene, where I spent 20 years of my life and where many of my friends and relatives live, my heart is breaking.  There is a story from my sister-in-law, who lives in Burlington, whose friend’s husband went out yesterday evening to bring in his dogs during the height of the raging weather. He has not been seen or heard from since. His wife and kids were rescued later, from their home, where mud slides were rushing towards them. I wait with hope and prayers that there will be a happy reunion.

I’ve spoken with my brother, Zed, and my nephew, Jesse. They are fine, but I don’t know the fate of many friends who live along creeks and rivers that have turned to thunderous torrents, overrunning their banks, taking trees and buildings with them.  For a state like Vermont, small and populated by many elderly and poor people, this is a tragic situation.

Sitting here in Central Virginia, where the sun is shining and Irene never knocked, it is difficult for me to fathom.  How could I possibly know the pain if I haven’t been there to experience it.  I can and do, however, carry the pain of a bystander, wanting to jump into the mire to pull them all out, knowing I’d most likely drown before I could be of assistance, only causing more sorrow.

I had hoped to go to Vermont this summer to visit, but life has run away with me, leaving me little time to take on the kind of trip I’d wanted. One in which I could spend long afternoons with friends and family members; talking, remembering and taking in their stories.  A four or five-day trip wouldn’t cut it, but it would have been better than nothing, I suppose.

I didn’t make the trip and rather than be filled with regrets, I’ll move forward, holding those that I haven’t seen in such a long time, in my heart … my nephew, Ben, who is now a first year student at UVM, my nieces, Julia, whom I haven’t yet met, and Anya, bright and beautiful.  There are many others. I will get there. The storm, by the name of Irene, has reminded me once again, that here on earth, time flies by faster than a rocket to Mars.

P.S.  The man who disappeared last evening, has been found and is OKAY!

Filed Under: Life, stories, Vermont

On Earthquakes And Hurricanes

August 26, 2011 By

Today's Daily Progress

On Tuesday, I was in the cellar getting ready to fold freshly dried laundry.  At the instant I opened the dryer door, there was a huge rumbling sound, like a freight train about to crash through the house.  It felt like the walls around me were expanding and contracting. I charged up the stairs, realizing the house was shaking.  It was not the dryer door that had caused this havoc, it was a magnitude 5.8 earthquake, with it’s epicenter just 40 miles up the road.  We’ve since had 3 or 4 after shocks. Nothing terribly big, but enough to leave my dogs, Sam and Molly, on the clingy side, not letting us out of their sight.

There has been little to no damage here in Charlottesville, save for a fractured gas line that was repaired quickly.  In Mineral, where the quake was centered, several homes were destroyed and in Louisa, the elementary school built in the 50’s is probably going to be condemned.  Friend’s of mine, who are living in a new house in Louisa, have cracks in their basement floor. The nearby nuclear power plant at Lake Anna, was shut down automatically as the quake began, but only 3 of its back up power sources came on-line. That is being investigated.

Officials in Culpepper, just north of us, are razing an historically important building today because it is too dangerous to leave standing.  In Washington, DC, our magnificent National Cathedral was damaged and there is no word on whether or not it can be restored.

Nobody in the area expected this to happen.  No one has insurance that will cover damage from earthquakes.  It’s a separate add-on to a regular homeowner’s policy, that no one buys because we rarely have earthquakes here.   There have been only 25 quakes in Virginia since it became a state, according to what I heard on CNN.

Sometime tomorrow, Hurricane Irene will sweep up the East Coast after making landfall on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  Virginia has already been declared in a State of Emergency.  At this time, New York City, is on the direct path the storm is likely to take.  Can you imagine being in a highrise on the 20th floor in surface winds of 85 miles-per-hour?  Can you envision what the City will be like when the subway systems and streets are flooded with the copious amounts of rain that could fall?  If you live on Long Island there are only a few ways off and around the City. Then where do you go?  Inland flooding is expected to be as dangerous or worse than what is being predicted on the coast.

In this country alone, it has been a summer of huge, natural disasters.  From tornadoes, flooding, drought, and searing heat, to earthquakes and hurricanes, it is a year to remember and contemplate.  What will the coming years be like?  Are we prepared for these catastrophic events?  Can Mayor Bloomberg do enough to keep his city safe?  What can any of us do?

Here in Central Virginia, we should experience winds up to around 30 mph tomorrow, along with about an inch of rain.  Unless Irene takes a more westerly route, we have little to worry about.  Sunday promises to be like any other day in paradise, while huge suffering will be taking place north of us into New England.

I wrote the following poem in 1989, as a way of dealing with my frustration over what we have been doing to our beautiful, blue planet and why we may be experiencing some the things that have been happening.

This dog

We are fleas upon this dog                                                                                                                 hopping about  sucking                                                                                                                     searching for a vein                                                                                                                             persisting in synthetic dreams                                                                                                           vinyl blue pools  golf course green grass                                                                                         rejuvenated monthly with fertilizers                                                                                               insecticides   fungicides

We sculpt the land                                                                                                                               cut trees for paradise                                                                                                                         strip malls  hurry up highways                                                                                                         lace the air with unseen gases                                                                                                           deadly vapors so thick                                                                                                                         we cannot see the views                                                                                                                     we cut the trees for

We pump heavy metals                                                                                                                       surgical leftovers into the sea                                                                                                           sit in the sun risking                                                                                                                           cancerous complexions                                                                                                                       on oil slicked beaches                                                                                                                         where dolphins lie dead

And this dog keeps spinning                                                                                                             chasing her tail                                                                                                                                     trying to scratch   chew                                                                                                                       nibble and shake the pain away

JZR

I know I sound gloomy and pessimistic, but what we are seeing is happening.   Each one of us must try to find ways of stopping the pollution, of understanding and attempting to reduce carbon emissions, bringing global climate change within reach of being lessened.  Some say we are beyond the tipping point, but I don’t find that to be a viable excuse to keep us from trying to leave a better world for our grandchildren.

Where ever you are this weekend, please be prepared and stay safe.

Filed Under: Life, Poetry, wonderings
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