We’ve negotiated a treaty
The wasps and I.
Yesterday we were thrown into
a sudden and terrifying conflict
when I opened the lid of the bird feeder
and laid bare their well crafted hive.
I dropped the entire construction
in the center of my porch
and ran
as several startled hornets
circled and memorized my face.
The remainder of the day
I gave them a wide birth
outdoors.
Sentinels warned me from
their safety perimeter
by hovering in that awkward
menacing way
directly in my vision
legs and abdomen dangling.
From the window
inside
I watched as one steadfast Mama
remained to warm the larvae.
Hours later she was joined by another
and close to nightfall most,
by my estimation,
returned to cover the newly
open and vulnerable nest.
This morning, they seem to have decided
I am no longer an immediate threat.
And I feel a similar guarded respect for them.
I was able to enjoy my coffee
on the glider
less than five feet away
and observe as they cleared
the shimmering dew
from their dark wings.
They remind me of Rilke’s
Dragon Princess.
Perhaps all the swarms
we unwittingly expose
do not wish to attack
or sting
but are waiting for us
‘Beautiful and brave”
to hold our anxiety
to let them live
and nurse their creations
and leave each of us
to our vigilant peace.
I picked six blackberries under the blue dome of heaven and the curious gaze of a dragonfly. Each one tasted different.
One was sour almost beyond bearing but it made me aware that sour ripens to sweet with sunshine, space, and patience.
I held those purple gems loosely in my left palm and experienced them one by one.
This, I consumed as a honeybee frantically gathered pollen.
That, as a song sparrow alighted on the swaying brambles and unleashed joyful tidings to no one in particular.
Another as the warming breeze carried the scent of milkweed.
The last, the darkest, was swallowed as I exited the entrance newly schooled in the knowledge that there are no separate moments only one forever unfolding.
I’ve learned a lot from watching cooking shows. More than simply how to cook, that is. There are so many reasons I’m drawn to them. I enjoy watching people use their hands. Most especially to create or build or fix or heal. All four of which are a part of preparing a good meal.
Great chefs understand that cooking is soul work. Sure, there are some ornery bastards. Some colossal egos. Tempers flare. I’ve never known any creative area where these issues didn’t arise. More often, what amazes me about the community of chefs is the way they collaborate. And while they may be highly critical, most also seem willing to submit their own cooking to the same scrutiny.
Cooking is hard work; busy, relentless, and consuming. You have to maintain your health, keep your energy levels high, and commit your whole self to the process.
Master chefs have a devotion to growth, learning, experimentation, and change. They fail and head right back to the pantry. It seems that each of them had a devastating setback in their lives; a fire, cancer, bankruptcy, a second fire; and yet, they persist. In fact, most chefs mark these traumatic events, that might have taken the heart of others, as a catalyst for transformation. You could say that they discovered their unique genius only after, or because of, a personal catastrophe.
Lately, an acute attention and appreciation for the local environment play a key role in fine cuisine. I deeply admire the move to incorporate not only local farms and produce, but to explore and forage, with respect and restraint, our seas, meadows, and forests. The artistry with which they incorporate these natural elements is, often times, astonishing. It also strikes me as ancient and witchy.
Cooking is an intriguing mix of science, art, skill, and attention. An alchemy of the senses. But, a crucial, though often unnamed component of cooking is time. Time and I are often at odds. Usually this is when I am ruminating on the past, or anxious about the future, or freaking out because it is passing so doggone quickly. Never is this more apparent than when I try to make an egg. I know first hand why this is the magical test of most chefs. You have to have ALLLLL your shit together to prepare a proper egg. And then it is a focused dance for the following three minutes or so. Artists create egg dishes with effortless elegance and keep a tidy kitchen, to boot. Not so in my kitchen.
The Zen Buddhist nun, Jeong Kwan, uses time expertly in preparing her temple food. Kimchi is created and harvested precisely when most nutritious and delicious. She plans and prepares healing vegan meals according to the seasons and cycles of her temple surroundings. She then presents them with exquisite artistry. We could all learn from her generous, humble offering.
In one way or another, I see great chefs as examples of mindful living. They are beholden to the gifts bestowed in their home place and as interpreted through the work of their senses, imagination, and hands. This is a calling. A calling that all of us have the opportunity to answer and practice on a daily basis. We can demonstrate our love for others and this beautiful, bountiful world by cooking healthy, tasty, well planned and attentively prepared food.
One of my favorite chefs as photographed by: John Hardwick
Let me be clear, I wanted, still want, most of my spiritual teachers to be women. Preferably women who lived lives of struggle and significance and came out the other side with something to tell about. And indeed many of the finest writings, the most significant stories, that get to deepest places of my soul are by these powerful women. I’ve long resented the lesser role women have in religious life and the fact that there are so few who enjoy the spiritual gravitas bestowed on men. Lots of men. So, it was with great reluctance that Stephan Pende Wormland, a white guy, a German no less, Tibetan Buddhist former monk, found his way into my heart.
I am not a Tibetan Buddhist. Despite this statement, The Dali Lama has provided me with the closest definition of my abiding philosophy, “Loving kindness is my religion.” It is that simple and that difficult.
But back to Mr. Wormland and why and how he became a force in my life even though I never met him and was conflicted about his maleness, his German heritage, and his patriarchal religious affiliation. I learned of him through the Insight Meditation Timer App which I highly recommend. I liked his guided meditation so much that I decided to look him up online. Turns out, he offers his teachings and guided meditations for free all over the web. You can listen and download them on SoundCloud. Or, why not sit in on retreat on YouTube? Mindful Dreaming makes a great jumping off spot.
Life is full of surprises. These disruptions can be our greatest instructors. Many experiences, many people, many moments, will go into the distillation of my true self. And so I have learned, it is good to examine my biases and open up.
Full disclosure, I am not disciplined enough to watch or listen to everything Stephan Pende Wormland offers. But, I return to his guided meditations regularly. There is something about his pacing, his voice, and his use of imagery and metaphor that resonates. Like most Tibetan Buddhists I’ve met, he has a great sense of humor too. The clarity of the audio makes you feel as if you are in his retreat loft in Copenhagen. Actually, I don’t know if he has a loft but I imagine the space to be large and open and several floors up from the street. So that, in the silent spaces between words you hear the canals, the footfalls, and church bells in the distance.
This may sound weird but all my life I have regularly given myself assignments. OK. Maybe not so weird for someone who ended up becoming a teacher but when I say assignments, I am not talking about the traditional kind. I’ve assigned myself tasks like, get to know every tree in my neighborhood. What are their names? What have they witnessed? Who lives in them? What about them is edible? This has been an ongoing assignment from the age of seven actually.
Vivian and Ray Kell center. Sandwiched by Mary and Jerry Black
Another mission I gave myself was to make friends with an elder in my community. I chose Ray Kell and by proxy his wife Vivian. Ray is 91 years old now. Vivian is 90. I have called them my friends since they were in their early 70’s. Ray and Vivian have ten children, 33 grandchildren, 17 great grandchildren and counting. Ray is a veteran of World War 2. He and Vivian are activists for peace, justice, and equality. He plays the piano and sings at least an hour every day. Preferably more. Sometimes you have to beg him to stop. He still plays 18 holes of golf and carries his own clubs. When he was 84, Ray raced me up five flights of stairs and beat me. The Kell’s vegetable garden is spectacular and feeds many in their neighborhood. They work every Monday from 6:00AM until 1:00PM in the Manna Meal Soup kitchen. Every year for the past 20, he and Vivian pack up their car and travel the country for six weeks visiting all their kids and grand kids while camping. In a tent! On Ray’s 90th birthday he challenged himself to do a freestanding headstand and hold it. He achieved his goal in the middle of his daughter’s backyard while his grandson played a three minute waltz on the violin. I guess you could say Ray also gives himself assignments. He certainly lives a life of meaning, purpose, and intention and I aspire to be more like him.
Which might be why I regularly assign myself reading. Two Summers ago, I read How to Be an Explorer of the World by Keri Smith. And guess what?! The book is filled with interesting assignments, only she calls them explorations. I highly recommend it. The author challenges you to collect tiny things and make a mini museum in an Altoids tin. She suggests making sculptures out of ten things you find in a drawer. There are 59 different explorations. Most of them involve field work. Keri Smith offers 5 field work tips. I would like to add a sixth one based on personal experience and follow it up with ten explorations, not in the book, that I found made my life, and occasionally the lives of those around me, better.
Keri Smith’s Field Work Tips:
Never leave home without a notebook and pen.
When practicing deep looking or deep listening, it is best to work alone.
Respect the community in which you explore. This applies to all aspects of nature, human or otherwise and also includes property, public or private
If you find yourself being questioned as to the reasons for your activities, the phrase, “I’m conducting research” usually satisfies the nosiest interloper.
Expect the unexpected and you will find it.
My 6th Tip: You can never have too many pockets when exploring. Be sure to bring scissors, zip lock bags, looking glasses, a camera, a snack and water bottle, some tissue, and plan to stay out a long time.
10 of my own Recommended Explorations Not Listed in the Book:
1. Never pass up an opportunity to dip, dive, slide, swing, glide, skip, twirl, rock, or dunk.
2. Look for the color purple everywhere you go. Read The Color Purple by Alice Walker. Pay Attention to what Shug says. “Shug a beautiful something.”
3. For an entire day, if anyone asks you a question, sing the answer. Make note of the questioner’s reaction.
4. Discover your favorite apple. They don’t all taste the same. Mine is a Fuji. Try one with some extra sharp Pinconning cheese. Seriously. Try that.
5. Listen only to the voice of love inside your head for a whole morning, or a whole day. Keep practicing until you can do it for longer and longer times. If the mean voice starts talking, sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to yourself until it goes away.
6. Every once in awhile, make yourself an omelet.
7. Find an interesting elder in your community. Get to know them. Ask them questions. Listen to their stories.
8. Make your worst enemy a kindness salad…or a batch of yummy cookies. Again, make note of their reaction.
9. Dance in the grocery store.
10. For one moment each day, stand still where you are. Breathe into your belly. Be mindful that every day, every single day, even the heart crushing ones, we are surrounded by the mighty love of God.
When discussing the fate of the world recently I made the statement that human beings will never run out of problems. I think my friends mistook this for a negative Nelly, Eeyore-esque moment when in actuality, I meant it rather hopefully. Problems are problems. They aren’t good or bad. They are puzzles. Conundrums. Challenges. Reasons to grow.
Deepak Chopra describes happiness as “Divine discontent.” If you haven’t viewed his Metaphysical Milkshake Soul Pancake interview with Raine Wilson, you simply must. It’s deep and hilarious! The gist of his very succinct wisdom-pearl is that as long as we have discontent and the creative impulse we will be happy. Seeking, building, creating, solving problems are crucial to our vitality. Without them, bliss becomes feckless lunacy. Now don’t get me wrong, I am all for feckless lunacy but only in moderation.
There is another video circulating now with a Rabbi talking about lobsters. Is that kosher? Anyway, he says that the lobsters grow because of discomfort. It becomes uncomfortable in it’s shell. It hides under rocks, loses the old shell, and grows a new and larger one. The basic parable here is without pain and discomfort no one grows.
In race relations and diversity work, all of my mentors espouse the philosophy that you must get comfortable being uncomfortable. The only way to bridge our differences is to jump into the mess and start to dogpaddle.
I do believe the world is getting better, even if we still have a looooong way to go and the pendulum has recently begun to swing erratically. Personally, I wouldn’t want to live in any other time in human history no matter how pretty the dresses were.
Problems and solutions are in a perpetual spiral dance. Answers beget new and different questions. This is the cycle in which awareness evolves. And I do believe consciousness is expanding despite the current state of world affairs. This is not to deny that great sorrows exist. Unfathomable tragedies. Dark forces. But, that alongside those things, or even, perhaps within them, great works of heart and mind are also happening. Heroic sacrifices. Sisyphean efforts. Great awakenings of the everyperson’s Jedi nature.
Really, I am more like Pooh and less like Eeyore: Ever in search of honey. In love with our hundred acre wood. Trusting in the kindness and ingenuity of friends to overcome today’s pickles and predicaments.
We will survive this episode. Just as we have overcome every snafu throughout human history. And then new problems will come along. The band plays on. The dance of divine discontent continues. Hopefully.
I would like to share with you two stories, three wishes, and an important secret.
I have always been a wonderer. I wonder about stuff. Constantly. Curiosity led me into many embarrassing predicaments. For example, when I was little I wondered if mothers to be got that way because they swallowed a watermelon seed. I wondered what would happen if I tried it. I knew seeds needed dirt so I ate some of that too. Then I sat in a sunny spot until I threw up. But this didn’t stop me from wondering if I could make my own gum. That brought the fire department to my house which is a longer story for a different day. I wondered what was in the glove compartment of people’s cars parked on our street. I was driven to examine the items the doctor’s cabinets and try to figure out what they did. Let’s face it, who doesn’t wonder about that?! I became obsessed with the idea that there were hidden rooms in every house and wondered what I needed to do to reveal them. Twist a knob on a mantlepiece, play a few notes on their piano, pull out just the right book from a shelf, and I was hopeful the floor would open up to a descending staircase leading to a chamber filled with magical samurai swords and dusty potions. I admit that I was influenced by the story of Anne Frank, my favorite book, The Secret Garden, and a fair share of Scoby Doo cartoons. Even though my nosey-ness often led to trouble, and I was almost always caught in the act, I never stopped wondering. I wonder about the word wonder. It can be a synonym for questioning or curiosity but also for awe, astonishment, luminous enchantment, and speechless reverence.
Recently scientists have studied the phenomenon of wonder, the speechless reverence awesome kind, the moments when we are stunned by the elegance of something in nature or life that humbles us and makes us realize that we are part of something grander than we ever imagined. What the scientists have discovered is that these moments change our lives in profound ways. The more often we experience astonishment, the less likely we are to suffer disease, the greater our personal happiness, and the more likely we are to want to contribute to the betterment of the world.
Rachel Carson wrote, “If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.” I wish this gift for each of you. That’s my first wish.
The first time I truly recall feeling a sense of wonder or awe was when I drove across the country by myself to start a new life in Los Angeles. I had everything I owned in a cruddy little hatchback and I was driving to the second largest city in the US where I didn’t know a soul. I had no job or place to live. It was risky but also thrilling. When I got to Arizona I came down with a terrible cold and the reality that I was headed into a very uncertain future alone began to take hold. Nevertheless, I decided to drive the two hours out of my way to see the Grand Canyon. I got there late in the afternoon. When you drive in the park you don’t see the Canyon. You have to walk to the edge. I will never forget it. As I got closer and the sublime immensity of what I was looking at opened up, my legs gave out. I fell to my knees. And I stayed that way for what seemed like hours because time stopped. My life was different after that. I can’t tell you about it in words really but Annie Dillard wrote, “We wake, if ever at all, to mystery.” And that moment and others I’ve been lucky enough to experience, mostly in nature, have felt like waking up…in a good way, not like with the alarm clock, but after a long, delicious sleep. So, that was the second story. And my second wish is that life presents you with mysteries that bring you to your knees. Many of them.
Socrates tell us that wonder is the beginning of wisdom.
Einstein said, The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science.”
Rilke wrote, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” And, that is my third wish, that you learn to love and live the questions and when you find an answer, realize that this is not the end of mystery. Mystery is infinite.
I believe wonder and awe are a form of prayer. Wonder lets us see with new eyes. It connects us to the consciousness of the cosmos. Which leads me to the all important secret….Are you ready? You are the greatest wonder of the universe. Yes, you, human, sitting here in this particular body, with this unique mind and heart, in this moment in history are the greatest wonder of all the galaxies because you get to behold it all. There never was and there never will be another you who notices and feels and appreciates and hopefully loves the other wonders in quite the same way. So, open up and let it all in! Even the stuff that hurts or confuses you. Live the questions! Love the Mysteries! Or, as Dr. Suess says, “Think and wonder. Wonder and think.”
For some folks it’s Passover. Others Easter. For us, it’s porch sittin’ time.
Spring is here! Along with hopeful buds. Healing blossoms. Green, green grass and dandelions. No wonder the collective fervor.
And yet there is so much sorrow as well. Terror. Atrocities. Big men. Big egos. Bigger evil. Conflicts so ancient and twisted and complex I don’t know what to think anymore. How to help? And then there are the soul crushing issues in my own row to hoe. Prayer isn’t enough. I must DO something. But what?
My heart is so small It’s almost invisible. How can you place such big sorrows in it? Look, He answered. Your eyes are even smaller. Yet they behold the world. ~Rumi
Look. The goodness of this Earth is everywhere evident. Daffodils emerge from the thaw and offer their sunny vision.
Everything is everything. This winter was bleak. Days of gray on gray on gray. Ironically, it was not a good winter for snowflakes. Those of us left of a bleeding heart must hold our anxieties. Trust that the goodness of humankind will win out over the worst in our nature. Remind ourselves that while we are the same species responsible for creating the circumstances that put us within a psychopath’s whim of world annihilation, we also invented macaroni and cheese. It is difficult to fathom that people are capable of composing symphonies, devoting their lives or laying them down for others, and also crimes of war, crimes of privilege, rape. We produced Hitler and every despot compared to him. But Mother Teresa also walked amongst our ranks. Both wolves live inside us. Actually, an entire pack. Our choices of which hungers to feed will determine what results from this interesting time.
And the outcome is beyond my control. Or yours.
What is in my control is the decision to feed my own wolves gratitude for the first Oberon of the season. To behold what is given. To smell the sweet Spring air. And be glad for the happy heart of my dog stretched on the driveway. Watch the neighbor kid play with his shadow in the rosy hue of sunset against the garage door backdrop. Listen to birds. Glide. Taste: The warming wind. The glowing green. The promise of lilacs.
Little did I know when I met a six toed, scrappy little mongrel named Coco she would become my greatest teacher and best friend. Like most heroes, she came from inauspicious beginnings. Her mother escaped a fighting ring with bits of wire fence still embedded into her cuts. Coco’s Mama was so sick, wounded and starving, no one believed she could bring her pups to term, much less give birth to ten with eight survivors.
One of the smallest in her litter, Coco still ran the lot of them. Bright, quick, and agile, her Kung fu was strong! Yet she was a sensitive, kindhearted Dom. A mush-pot. Already, I was learning from her.
On the long ride home I discovered the six toes. She had gnarly, dangerous dew claws in the back, dainty ones up front. The back pair needed removal before they caught on something and crippled her. We arranged to have them amputated when she was spayed and micro-chipped so that we only needed to sedate her once. Unfortunately the surgery proved more complicated than anticipated. Her temperature dropped on the table. The new technician assisting in the surgery placed a hot water bottle on her side to bring it up. In her inexperience, she forgot to check the temperature. Coco was severely burned.
No human realized this until nearly a week later when her hair dropped out and her skin turned black. In the meantime, she forgave us the countless times that we must have caused her agony by lifting her and holding her in this area. As she forgave and continued to trust, so did we. The veterinarian and the vet tech both cried when they realized what had happened. They took full responsibility and gave her extra special care for the many months of her recovery. Receiving and offering redemption, are there really any bigger lessons in this world we need to practice over and over?
Coco continues to teach me. Simple wisdom. Without words: Wake up happy. Stretch and shake. Eat. Sleep. Play. Walk. Comfort others. Give hugs. Only kiss the people who want them. Take gently. Enthusiastically welcome. Love unconditionally. Trust. Except for squirrels. Squirrels are evil.
Get to know the sort of creature you are. Never be ashamed of your animal self. Not that I am advocating licking your privates in the middle of the living room rug. Or smelling the privates of others for the information therein. But I believe we were given this particular existence for a reason. These strengths and limitations are ours to explore. Enjoy your body and all it can do with a glad heart.
When all was said and done Coco was left with a nifty scar that looks much like a lightning bolt. Not unlike a certain Mr. Potter. She is “The chosen dog.”
Labyrinth Blackberries
Lucky Pilgrim 