(Slightly Amusing) Survey Included

 

Then

I remembered—if you turn on the heat, it becomes even warmer.

I have a ‘thing; about turning on the heat in September.

Then

I turned on the heat.

Now it’s really warmer.

Now it’s comfortable.

I know what to do.

I know how to transition from summer to fall.

I know how to create comfort.

I just must do it.

~~~

Toss in a backdrop of pandemic-unchecked/election-unhinged/everything-unknown/….

Seasonal transition feels—

At best

For me

Intensified and rickety this year.

~~~

I feel wordless.

An unfamiliar place, indeed.

~~~

Solace.

I’ve been considering solace.

Again and again.

I’ve been considering solace.

• Solace—comfort or consolation in a time of distress, loneliness, or sadness

A relevant concept, right?

I’m interested in creating the circumstances in which I am comforted,

I am warmed,

I am held.

Solace as a verb.

• Solace—to give comfort, to give consolation in a time of loss and grieving

So much around me feels the contrary; I easily can feel distressed, cold, and alone.

We must do it for ourselves, dear friends.

Just as I remembered—closing windows works, turning on heat—that works.

Now I am warmer.

I must create the circumstances in which I can relax, renew, and be warmed.

Here’s what worked for me this week:

I received solace while:

• Lounging in a steaming bath, heavy with Epson salt and baking soda
• Considering, just considering Rachel Maddow’s voice, not even listening, just remembering she is out there, somewhere
• Locking eyes with Gibbs, the fantastic dog that works at Baldwin’s Hardware.   (I would take his picture to send you, but I fear I might be hovering on canine-stalking by now.  I did call to get the dog’s work schedule.  Yes, I am that person.)
• Dropping down into this wonderful tribute to RBG from Central Synagogue’s most remarkable rabbi, Angela Buchdahl.  This remembrance brought me comfort.

 

Compassion is Not a Luxury

It Is a Necessity for Us to Survive*

I am revealed to myself
Over
And
Over
Again
Through
Other 
People.

There is a member 
Of the 12 Step meeting
I am newly attending
Named Fred.

Daily
Fred
Teaches me
About myself.

What I see about myself
In this man’s reflection
Is not comfortable.

To me, when he shares, 
He goes on.  
And on.  

To me, 
When he shares,
His tangential thoughts 
Tangle my mind.

To me, 
When he shares,
I work hard,
Too hard
Tracking 
His threads.

To me, 
When he shares,
I get frustrated
And 
Mostly,
Bored.  

Bored
And 
Annoyed.

Compassion
Doesn’t feel
Accessible
To me.

My boredom
Takes me away.

I know better.
I want to stay with him better.

Yet
I cannot find
Access
To 
Compassion.

Or curiosity.

Or interest.

Nada.
Nothing.
Just
Bored 
And
Annoyed.

Until today.
Something quite 
Horrid happened.

Although we are all muted during the calls,
But for the rotating speakers and the chairperson,
During Fred’s sharing,
(As I was willing myself to 
Attempt listening),

Someone
Really
Rudely,
Really 
Loudly
Really
Abrasively
Said
For
All to hear:

“What is this guy still talking about?”

It was mean and harsh and inappropriate and wrong.  

It violated every tradition of the Fellowship and shade of decency.  

The speaker, Fred, 
Absolutely heard,
Appeared appropriately 
Flummoxed, 
Said something quickly,
And abruptly ended
His sharing.

I was horrified.

Horrified.

Something so sacred
Was violated.

In the bigger picture,
It all worked out.

Texts were sent.
Fred
Was
Supported.

The offender,
Not a regular,
Disappeared.

And I learned something.
I saw something.

In the intense echo,
The shock of 
This total absence
Of compassion,
I woke up.

I saw Fred’s pain.
I imagined his embarrassment.
I felt his rejection.

Perhaps the total lack of compassion,
The existence of horrifying meanness
Can awaken me.

Perhaps I can look around,
See the absence of compassion
And utilize that
To return to a place
Of caring
Inside of me.

Perhaps I can look to
Others,
Their
Both positive
And
Negative actions,
To
Springboard
Into my own caring.

OH!
I don’t have to do it alone.

OH!
I don’t have to find my way
By myself.

OH!
I don’t have to struggle
To reunite with myself.

OH!

~~~
Dear friends, I’ve spent some time this week collapsing into YouTube.  Surrounded by fields of ragweed, a major immune system combatant of mine, I surrendered to Couch and Animals.  Yes, I confess, I’ve had a deep dive into the vast, delicious, and ridiculous subculture of animal videos.  This one, with some skittish hesitation, I must share.

It’s about the animals, of course.  But notice the people.  Notice—the amazing, compassionate, beyond-the-call-of-duty-kind-people.  And watch the flourishing of life and love and freedom, the direct result of human compassion.

Ram Das had a picture of Donald Trump on his altar.
I am not there.

I woke last night, annoyed at yet another awakening.

Sleep, 
My-Almost-Enemy,
So elusive,
Offering
So many 
Doorways
To 
More
Disturbance,
More 
Unrest.

And then
I heard it:

The sound of the owl, hooting, soft, insistent,
Surrounding the house.

The owl
She 
Must 
Have
Been
Moving
From front to side,
Back to side
To front,
Making her way
Around the house.

Much time passed.
Maybe an hour?

My annoyance
Faded
And Melted
Into
Awe.

Then morphed
Into greed.

I wanted to see her,
This owl
This nighttime
Harbinger
Of 
Mystery.

I peered out the windows,
Almost-full-moon
Blinding.

The owl
My blessed visitor
Had revealed herself,
Plenty
For my heart,
Not
Enough
For my head.

My heart is
Pretty good.

My head?
A bit less.

This week my fear built.
Violence in the street
Usurped,
Used
Politically
For leverage,
For personal/political gain.

Pandemic,
Thousands upon more thousands
Sick,
To be sick,
Gone,
To be gone,
Usurped,
Used
Politically.

What if….?

That thought I had not allowed myself,
That sentence,
I cannot
Conceive….

What if?

This week
My fear built.

And then I heard
This poem
By Juan Ramon Jimenez:

~~~
I am not I.
I am this one
Walking beside me whom I do not see,
Whom at times I manage to visit
And whom at other times I forget;
Who remains calm and silent when I talk,
And forgives, gently, when I hate,
Who walks where I am not,
Who will remain standing when I die.

~~~
Then I remembered.
Then I wasn’t scared.
For a few breaths.
For a few minutes.
For a few….
???
~~~

Dear Friends,
We must open our hearts to
Ourselves.

We must open our hearts
To
Each other.
~~~
Question of the Moment
From My Heart to Yours—

What does it take for your heart to remember?  For your mind to quiet?  For oneness to reemerge?  What’s the portal, the doorway for you to return home?

Here’s my current-list-of-the-week:

• Awakening into the hoot of an owl, softly wrapped around me
• Observing the rising full moon, emerging from a bank of dark clouds
• Witnessing the tiny and so feisty black squirrel fully amusing herself in the yard
• Remembering the child I was—the child I am—holding my guitar against my belly—sounds vibrating through and in me
• Allowing myself to feel the disconnect, the aloneness, the separateness—and meeting that disconnect, that aloneness, that separateness with kindness
• Smiling at the Christmas trees, patient, oh, so patient in the morning fog
• Touched by the morning sun, breaking through the awakening trees

That’s my list.

What’s yours?

~~~
Dear Friends,
I was blessed to participate in a retreat last weekend with Roshi Joan Halifax from the Upaya Center, with her co-teacher, Frank Ostaseksi, Zen hospice co-founder and author of The Five Invitations.  It was a deep dive into kindness, exactly what this aching heart needed.

Here is a meditation with Roshi Joan, as she leads and guides us to grounded-ness, to center, to All.

~~~
On a more current note, to support our challenged, 2020-pandemically-impacted immune systems, here is probably one of my more favorite tunes, of the same-yet-different-ilk, Leonard Cohen, 2009, on his London tour:

And, if you care to, Blessed Leonard’s lyrics:

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=leonard+cohen+lyrics+halleluhah

~~~
Dear Friends,

I write this on the eve of my sober anniversary.  On August 27, some years ago, I was literally taken off the floor of my apartment, carried to my telephone, and literally deposited across the street to a Twelve Step meeting that was starting in a few minutes.

For every single moment of these years, the ones I liked and the ones I did not, the ones I celebrated and the ones I ran from, for the entirety of green kale I consumed and every bite of the Crap-Franken-stein-Food, for every single moment I was able to practice and trust and remember, for every single nanosecond of my lapsing and forgetting and acting out and being terrified–for all of it,

I am grateful.
This is the trip.
Right here
And
Right now.

With gratitude for you all,
For us, all,
Be well and safe,
Aruni

~~~
ONE SINGLE ANNOUNCEMENT

Wisdom Circles

We are not alone.  You are not alone.  Let’s come together, to remember what’s real and what is important.  Create community; connect to yourself, to one another, and to our simple and sustainable teachings.

Our circles are held on Thursdays.Thursday, September 3, @ 2:00 EST  http://coacharuni.com/thursdaycircles/