Smoky Days
I feel –
Strange.
Do I feel—
Unclear?
Not quite the word.
Do I feel—
Disconnected?
No, not exactly.
Do I feel—
Low energy?
Sort of.
Maybe I’m sad.
Maybe I’m
Just
Simply
Sad.
These smoky days.
These smoky,
Sad
Days.
~~~
I hear my privilege in the words, “These smoky, sad days”.
How many people, what percentage of the world’s population, have lived with conditions so much worse than this constantly, literally threatening lives and homes and communities?
And I’m sad because I can’t walk my dog as I would want.
And I’m sad because can’t hike as I would hope?
I don’t know how to feel my feelings in relationship to the amount of suffering there is in this world of ours.
Sylvia Borstein, brilliant Buddhist teacher, says, “Grief has no hierarchy.”
I find no solace in that statement anymore,
In it there is no invitation into my moment.
~~~
1956, “The Unicorn”)
Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes these words in her book of poems, attempting to find an expression, an container to hold the sorrow of her unthinkable loss.
How prophetic.
How profound.
~~~
I remember.
I remember
Past summers:
Berkshire summers,
Cool mornings,
Clear and bright afternoons.
A sweater at night,
Maybe even a sweatshirt for Tanglewood?
Girl Scout camp memories,
Shivering in my damp sleeping bag,
Wet dewy mornings,
Sky opening and brightening,
The rhythms of the day
So clearly defined.
~~~
Today?
Not so.
Not so defined.
Different now.
Unknown.
Today?
Smoky air.
Heavy humidity.
Rain after rain.
None of it a surprise—
We know.
Yet, the horror
Of living
Into
The
Loss.
So much loss.
Unthinkable,
Unimaginable.
So much.
~~~
I look to the remarkable Roshi Joan Halifax, abbot of Upaya Zen Center, anthropologist, activist, inspiration and bright, bright light—here is her guidance:
Roshi Joan Halifax, A Meditation on Grief (ten minutes)
~~~
James and Henry tickle me, they touch me here. Two Berkshire locals, I cannot be neutral about their wonderfulness:
~~~
Today?
Today the sun comes out.
Today the sky returns to blue,
Almost a recognizable blue.
Today
The air returns
To familiar,
To breathable,
To recognizable,
To comfortable.
How do we do this?
How do we be present
With such bounty,
And such lack,
All at the
Same time?
Today we live.
We live here.
Right here.
Right now.
We live with what is.
We attend
With prayer and action
To what might be.
We receive the blessings
We are given.
We breathe.
Today
We
Breathe.
Blessings—all,
Aruni