Yesterday Felix and I went to Tiger Mountain, about 20 miles outside Seattle for a hike. Homeless encampment #4 was back, at the entrance to the trailhead, just off the freeway. As you can see, it's very cold now.

I stopped in at the admin, a blue tarp shelter with two large kerosene heaters and a few guys hanging out. The cigarette smoke was thick. I gave them a twenty and wished them well.

That's all. I got back in my warm car after we hiked and drove home to my warm house. my big warm house.

People sleeping 'rough'.

Compassion means empathy and concern for the suffering and misfortunes of others. May we all see with our open hearts the suffering and misfortune of others. No judgment. No fear. No pity. Open hearts.

The car repair place just told me I need $2000 worth of repairs. Shite.

The last time this happened, I asked about the used car salesman and bought a newer used car. This time I'm gonna just...do it. Pains me to but cars, like knees, wear out.

Time to get a NYT and walk the dawg. He is ALWAYS cheerful. The nature of dogs confounds me. I guess when your memory is about 3 minutes, you're never troubled about anything.

Happy Sunday.

It was like this

My Salvation Army cape had big pockets inside
I slid steaks, jars of honey, butter into the dark folds
I was so slim with my long hair
As I walked out the door, the purloined food breathed out
so neither of us would get caught

We were sleeping on the floor
the starter was out so
we parked at the top of the hill
ran and pushed to get the car going

Boston was cold that winter
Art school was too expensive but I went anyway
You worked in a camera store
stole cameras
I worked in the health food store
stole bread and grapefruits

We had no idea
we were poor
or desperate
when we fucked
our bones chafed against each other

we paid the rent
rode the trolley
brought home a cat
we were free
no family
no friends
no future we cared about

Every year a retreat center south of here asks for volunteers to deep clean the center; bathrooms, dining hall, bedrooms, the Dharma hall, teachers cottages. And the great outdoors-fallen tree limbs, errant bamboo, etc.

Judith and I went  in spite of a flat tire and a sick kitty. Lola stayed at the vet for 24 hours getting IV fluids and waiting for labs. A bladder infection, as I suspected. For $900!!! Egad.

Then they gave me a wee bottle of antibiotics and say, "Once a day, orally." They don't say, "Ha ha, good luck with that."

Cats are smart. They feel that something terrible is about to go down as you approach them with a towel and a syringe. So they head out to spaces where you are unable to reach them. And you are dragging them out by a leg or the tail and further traumatizing them because they are thinking you're about to kill them or put them back in the cat carrier of death.

When you finally wrap them in a towel, then they throw their head around so you're basically aiming for the mouth/teeth area when it whips by you, getting fish flavored medicine on your shirt and all over their face. Hopefully some of it landed IN their mouth and you're good til tomorrow when it's time to do again. For 10 days.

At least it's not a pill. Pilling a cat is pretty much the worst situation. No cat will stand for it. It is beneath them. It doesn't matter that you've explained that they are ill and will feel much better. They don't give a shit. Giving a cat a pill guarantees that you will be bitten and/or clawed. You will be bloody and your cat will hate you. They give side eye and start growling. Then comes the slashing.

Anyway, the retreat center is sparkling and when I got home with Lola, I found that Felix had torn up the rug that I just bought. He is in the bedroom on an extended time out. As least the rug (screaming deal) was only $100.

Why do we have animals? I know this is a rhetorical question...and by the way, why is there an 'h' in rhetorical? Seems completely whimsical.

Beautiful boy

Dearest Milo

It's your birthday again and you're 16.

Many places on this planet, young men and women are celebrated and welcomed as adults when they turn a certain age. You're not an adult yet but 16 is a milestone. And we don't have any significant ceremony for you. But we adults recognize the turning of the wheel of the year in your young life.

From my heart, I have wishes for your future. Of course, I hope you enjoy health and happiness in the years to come. And that you learn to skillfully navigate disappointments and sorrows for they will surely come as they do in every human life.

Most of all I wish for you to become a kind and compassionate man, a man who knows how to be vulnerable and tender. I wish for you to find love for yourself. I wish for you to be respectful of girls and women, for those less fortunate, for those different from you. As you come into your place in the human community, awakening to your privilege as a white man cannot be denied. I wish for you to use that privilege to move the needle for those who have no voice because they are Brown and Black, because they are immigrants, or Queer, or just down on their luck. When faced with suffering, we can choose to harden our hearts or let our hearts break into action.

Yes, you're still a kid. But your manhood is coming soon. You've had great good fortune to be raised with loving parents. You've not known homelessness, hunger or discrimination. You can choose to make your life one that is full of good works, good deeds. Because you see clearly see the needs and you are compelled to respond.

You and we can't fix the world. But your words and actions have an effect. This is true. There is so much that is ugly, terrible and sad and it will always be so. But there is beauty and compassion everywhere. Choose that. Choose to make use of your life. For justice and love and kindness. Be a mensch, dearest one.

Yours,

Nana

Dear hearts,

And there was rejoicing in the land. Of course the monster-in-chief didn't take it well. To be expected. And then there was Sessions.

I spent a week on the island of Namaimo, BC in silent retreat with my beloved Adrianne. Got back yesterday. Yes, I voted before I left.

It is beautiful there and I walked the perimeter of the lake every day until I sprained my ankle. The sorrow and fear I was feeling was so immense, I had to move my body somehow, let the trees and the sun and the geese and the water restore my mind to some sanity. I truly had a melt down and the sweet Canadians helped to comfort and restore.

Canadians say 'hello' and 'good morning'. A lot. It must be a small town thing. I must have been wished well 100 times. Beautiful.

The ferry ride is 2 hours and I refrained from listening to the election results. I called friends after I crossed the border to give me the broad outline. Which was promising.

Today is a new world. Some checks and balances. We'll see how POTUS responds to being told 'no'. And my Canadian friends can be cautiously optimistic about our impulsive and dangerous 'leader'. So we need to continue to fight for the rights of those who cannot speak for themselves. Those of us with privilege need to use it for good. For the good of all beings, even those we disagree with. And that's hard.

First they came for the Jews
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists
and I did not speak out
because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me
and there was no one left
to speak out for me. 

Martin Niemöller

Today there was this:

and this:

Lake Annette with Felix and Holly. Beautiful October day. We talked about everything so all is solved. Don't worry everybody. All will be well. We have a plan which involves casting spells and burning sage. 

Tomorrow I go see 

Ha! With Hannah Gadspy!

Perks of living in the city, y'all. 

BTW we hiked over 9 miles, 21,953 steps and 71 "floors". I still have it. Amazing.

A Star is Born----------

My friend and I went to see this movie after the Kavanaugh hearings. We were looking for an escape and the buzz was, well, buzzy. Oscar nominations, best actress, Cooper directed and starred, etc.

Cringy is more like it. Creepy, horrid, depressing, ug.

From the first scene, we see our 'hero' amble off stage, get in his limo and hit the bottle. Ok, he's got stringy hair, a red (alcoholic) face and I'm sure he smells really good. In that alcoholic, sleeping in your clothes, can't remember when you last brushed your teeth, sweetish gin smell the day after kinda way. EEWWW.

He lands in a drag bar where our heroine takes to the stage as the one cis gender straight woman in the place and does a Ma Vie En Rose, alerting Cooper to a nascent budding star.

And they fall in love.

That's where I got lost. Falling in love with an end stage alcoholic isn't falling in love. It's a lot of other things but love?? He's checked out, people!! He can't walk straight or think straight. We never see him vomit but he stumbles, pees himself and can't make it through the day without being hammered.

And then **spoiler alert**he kills himself. Well, he was doing a pretty good job of it with alcohol and drugs (oh yeah, he's popping pills and crushing them up to snort, even getting a bloody nose, very attractive). But no, he also hangs himself.

His blue eyes stay clear and his liver doesn't quit on him so he could turn yellow. So there's that.

But calling this a love story is so far off the mark.

Gaga was great. The woman can act. And I usually loves me some Bradley.

But yuck. And don't get me started on the 'great man' promoting the little lady and then BLAM, stardom. Cuz women can't make in on their own merit, right? At least nobody grabbed her ass.

Ok, that's my rant. Don't see the movie or if you do, be warned. And let me know what you think.

Anger. And fear. There is resistance in us, individually and collectively. I won't wait for the good men to speak out. It's all in the open now. We've been through hard times before.

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

September 30, 2018

“I Want to Burn the Frat House of America to the Ground” by Susan Nguyen

Susan Nguyen

I WANT TO BURN THE FRAT HOUSE OF AMERICA TO THE GROUND

after Jennifer Weiner

Look, America, I have tasted you

before and you taste like beer.

Pabst. Natty Boh. Schlitz.

In a can and warm.

You taste like lemonade powder in vodka,

fire hydrant water collecting in sewers.

America, the beautiful:

don’t you look impossible tonight?

A two-headed coin. You told me

I’m sexy, I’m beautiful, I’m wanted, unwanted, not a 10

but here we are in your bedroom

and I’m a secret. I’m impossible.

Do you know how to be sorry?

I’m a snack, you said, and guess who’s hungry.

America, where are your hands?

You should know: I remember

everything.

You pulled back my elbows

and asked how could anyone

be sure of my face in the dark?

America, you duct taped

my hands to a 40 and said drink

You duct taped my hands to two 40s and took my phone away

You duct taped my two hands and said do something

America, how could you

I want to burn all the frat houses all the America all the ground

I want to America the frat house burning

America, run

America, here is where the burning body turns into ground

America, you could

America, show me

Just back from Big Bear California. 1500 year old juniper tree with a deep cleft burned into her side. Lightening strike, we are told. High up in the mountains, 7000 feet, makes breathing difficult.

Can't watch the aftermath of the hearings. Hoping the vote goes one way, fearing it will go another.

The house is quiet and the leaves are turning on the vine winding up the chimney. Tonight I teach a Dharma and Race class.

May all beings be safe, happy and free from harm.

this morning at first light
you came to me
slid two fingers into me
so that I rose up toward you
your beautiful face
confident that I wanted whatever you offered

I know you're dead
I found your obituary finally
yes
you were born in 1948 in NYC
I didn't know you were living in San Francisco when you died
I would have visited

O I was 17 and away from home
away from my parents
and you chose me
my hair touching my waist
breasts barely there
I was that girl
and you slouched toward me
I thought you were a man
black hair on your chest
black beard
my dorm mate said you looked like Jesus

Marlboros  weed  acid
1967 and we tried all of them

today we made love before I woke up
back then
you saved me
you used condoms
you kept me away from the heroin
you became addicted to
was in treatment for

you were 68 when you died
maybe you got clean
the last time I saw you
you had a gold tooth like a gangster
your music Thelonius, Coltrane, Otis

my love
I have been grieving you for 50 years
your casual disregard
your tenderness
I was the naive girl who adored you
but I was the girl in Florida
the one you chose so you'd have someone to fuck

you had a girl in the City
the real girl
the girl you could be seen with

the roses came with a card
'don't let time kidnap you'

I couldn't keep you
I never had you
the last time I saw you I was pregnant with another man's child
you lay on the bed
but I wouldn't go to you
you had a woman who braided her hair the way you liked it
you were on methadone

maybe you got clean
stopped smoking
moved West

in my dream
you are so beautiful
my young body so eager so willing
I couldn't begin to see the damage ahead

I hope you are at peace
I hope you aren't haunting me
this was never going to be a love story

When I have a birth like this one, I never want to retire. I'm in love with her and her husband and their sweet baby boy.

This is Eden, my glamorous daughter on her way to the Emmys! She and a friend worked on Anthony Bourdain's crew so they were invited. I am, of course, her proud momma. Besides, she's gorgeous.

It rained, thank the lawd. i go out on retreat again in a week. To Big Bear, a few hours outside of LA. Guess it's in the mountains and forests. I'll be gone a week.

I think my sleep is caught up. At my sort of age, sleep is a beautiful and illusive idea. Some nights I lie awake. Other nights I sleep for 10 hours. Random.

It's a new day. I am waiting for the women's spa to open so I can go there and get a Korean scrub and lie around in the hot tubs. With no cell phone.

We had yet another birth yesterday. Was up all night and staggered home at 6 PM to find that my dog guy hadn't come for Felix. He is, um, excitable and he runs pell-mell through the house, scattering rugs and furniture EVERY DAY when I come home. Yesterday, because he'd been inside FOR HOURS, he also managed to knock over an entire gallon of gesso on the floor.

Awesome.

I spend 20 minutes scraping, mopping and wiping up spilled gesso, which got in the cracks of the wood and so forth.

Plus the cat peed on my bed, which went through several layers of bedding and, of course, my comforter. It is a comfort, my comforter, except when it smells like cat pee.

The birth family was beautiful. We had to transfer them because the labor was going on too long and it was safer for them to be in the hospital. They had a lovely baby boy.

Plus, a father from 7 years ago came into the clinic with $600 in cash and wanting us to file a birth certificate for his 7 year old cuz they want to get him a passport. They still owe us money !!!!!!! Jeez.

Mi vida loca.

I have a huge canvas in my studio that needs one more coat of gesso. Today I'm gonna do that, more gesso. Then I will apply paint. Because that's what painters do, they paint. Even if they're tired or grumpy or sad.

And no babies are gonna interrupt. You hear?

Well, it's 4:10 AM. I'm hanging out at the birth center with my student. The mom is being pretty quiet right now. She's not very dilated so I'm thinking we're gonna be here all day (sigh). I'm supposed to host a meditation tonight at my house. We'll see how that goes.

It's been a week for this semi-retired (?) midwife. My crew is either sick or out of town so I've been holding down the fort for about a week. Home visits, clinic visits, this birth and another one a few days ago. I am remembering why I wanted to work less.

There's another midwife here with her client but she's not going very fast either.

This business of waiting on women. I've been doing it for many years. Because it's important that women be given time, attention and love when they're bringing in their babies. And we're here to help out.

Reading about power and the brain. Having power over others actually makes one less empathetic. Interesting, isn't it? Brain chemistry changes in powerful people but with attention, the powerful can learn to be compassionate again if they have lost that ability.

And furthermore. I hate this bra I'm wearing. I hate all bras, actually. I have complained here before about bras but I still hate them. I go around bra-less and that is the natural way, no confinement, no tightness around the chest. Remember bra burning. I was all about it. Of course, back them I had no need for a bra anyway because I was flat chested. That was lovely. And now....

Alright, I'm going to love my body, all of it. I'm 67 and this is what it looks like to be 67, breasts and all. I will not weigh 125 pounds again. As long as I can still walk a fair distance, swim and ride my bike, I'm good. I'm more than good, I'm great.

So that's my ramble. At this hour, I don't have to make sense. Wish this baby and his/her parents well.  Enjoy your sleep.

The beat goes on. Air here is more breathable after the fires from Canada and Eastern Washington. Red sun, red moon.

A little over a year ago, a dear friend and colleague lost her newborn. She has been posting all month to review the final month of her pregnancy, the birth and the death of her daughter. I can barely read it for the pain. And yet I do as do other readers. We are held in a web of suffering and grief with her, the true meaning of karuna, a Pali word that means compassion or to suffer with. In knowing and befriending our own losses, we can then feel into and support the unbearable suffering of another. Trump can't feel sorrow for the the death of McCain because he hasn't swept the pathway to his own sorrow. I know I'm being generous when I would rather trash him, but today, the strength of the planetary suffering is what I'm open to.

These days I feel a split in myself. I go to clinic and see pregnant mothers and meet newborns. I buy veggies and bread. I walk the dog and swim in the lake. I meditate by myself and with my friends. So on one hand, my life is eventful and peaceful. On the other, I obsess about the news, I am in touch with the most dreadful sadness in myself. I feel the trees and plants struggling with the lack of water and the extreme heat. Smoke fills the air and drops ash on my car. I literally have to turn away in order to function, to show up, to stay here in the world of car washes and movies and children and dogs. I feel myself opening and closing, the pain ebbing and flowing. I don't feel futility or hopelessness. I'm just present to the pain. As Ram Das once said, "On one hand, life is beautiful and on the other it's all shit." Holding both views is the practice of equanimity, which I just don't have right now. I vacillate between the two polls with a resulting sense of vertigo.

I continue to turn to concept of 'power over' as opposed to 'power from within'. Racism, misogyny, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, all these hatreds are based in fear and therefore loathing. Even the Earth's body is not exempt. As we continue to polarize, the Earth and her creatures reveal the depth of our delusion about our separateness.

Ruth King, author of "Mindful of Race" reminds us:

Interdependence: This is the practice of remembering that we are part of something larger than our individual selves-a karmic web of humanity-and what we do has impact.

Compassion: The practice of compassion is a weapon of mass healing.

Harmlessness: The practice of nonharming in body, speech and mind is essential for respect and safety.

May we all be held in love and caring today. May we all be free.

Air from fires making a haze. Can't see the lake or the mountains. Just heard from a mom who may be in early labor. Maybe tonight...

Swam in the lake. No one was there. Just me and Felix. I threw the ball forever. Now I think a nap is in order. If I'm gonna be up all night, I better rest now. Next year, I'm cutting back even more on my call days and working even less. I have to. I must. I want to. For the opportunity to stay in my underwear all day or in my bathing suit and a towel.

Even in winter.

Been away from this here too long. A lotta family time and retreats and so forth. Went to Alaska with my brother and sister. They caught halibut, I didn't. And there were NO SALMON because of, you know. Here in Puget Sound an Orca mother has been mourning the death of her calf. The whales need the fish, the bears need the fish...I visited SE Alaska 25 years ago and the fish were so thick in the streams, you could walk across them to the other side.

In California, the fires are out of control. Smoky air here, too thick to stay in Ashland where I had planned to camp.

I am in despair, y'all.

Our beautiful suffering Earth.

It has been blazing hot here. Brown grass and dying trees.

How are all of you?

The babies are still being born.

I made 24 jars of wild blackberry jam in the last few days. My fingers are currently purple. 

Blackberries will make you suffer. Their thorns are wicked. I only shed a little blood this year. I insist on picking berries in short sleeves and flip-flops. 

About to go to BC, Nanaimo to be exact. Gotta take a ferry there and I agreed to pick up two guys to take to the retreat with me. Is it important to be on retreat in these troubled times?? I'm questioning everything. 

If we can't get rid of the awful occupant of the White House, please disable him in November. From our lips to g-d's ear. K? I don't mean put him in a wheelchair or something. Just render him harmless. Foolish destructive horrid man. 

May we find peace and justice for all beings, everywhere. 

 

Martha Washington Park.  Ryan Dela Cruz.

In these dangerous times, I have the most excellent news.

I bought a pair of overalls, yes, denim overalls. I wore them all day today. I think I might wear them every day for the rest of my life. I can spruce them up with jewelry for the many galas I attend, dress down with flip flops and gardening gloves, the possibilities are endless. I thought of you, Mary.

It started with a woman I met in the park where I often run my dog. Her overalls had dirty knees, a look I know well. I asked her where she got her fabulous outfit and she said 'the Gap'. So you know I went home and hit the computer and there they were, Gap overalls.

O joy, O rapture.

If I'm going to weigh, um, what I weigh and have to wear a damn bra, then I'm wearing overalls. All the time.

My olden days overalls had a rainbow embroidered on the front pocket. I just might put one on these overalls.

And I painted my new mailbox:

And got a new tattoo:

And I'm getting another one tomorrow.

Fuck it.

I'm working on my book and I've set up the ginormous canvas in my studio that has been languishing for way too long. Every day I will spend time in artistic reverie and meditation and life giving pursuits.

Take that, bad news.

Yes, we are in a catastrophe of catastrophic proportions. But even the Buddha enjoyed himself. If I'm still catching babies and being a part of that whole amazing process, I might as well sleep on the couch sometimes and stay in my pajamas until 2 PM. (at least the bra situation is handled when wearing pjs.)

And one more thing. I spent 2 HOURS going exactly nowhere this afternoon. I needed to visit two newborns north of my home and before you could say 'Jack Robinson', I was stuck in the most gawdawful traffic jam. When I turned around, I got stuck going that way too. It was so stupid. I am pretty patient but I eventually called the mommas and said, 'uh, see you tomorrow'. Apparently having Amazon headquarters in our town has fucked the traffic to kingdom come. And the Mariners game. And some random highway closure.

I despair of a solution to this mess. My house is peaceful with bird feeders and a view of the lake and mountains so...I'll just stay here.

Finally-my guilty secret. Outlanders!!!! I haven't read the books. I bet they're kinda terrible bodice-ripper things. But the series on HBO, hooboy. My daughter got me hooked. Filmed in Scotland (gorgeous) with a hunk of burning love interest (no doubt real Scots men did NOT look like him 200 years ago!) but it's part historical fiction, science fiction, soft porn, oh I could go on...and I'm a lesbian!! Who cares, hot sex is hot sex, right? Yes, it's trash and I'm sick of the theme song but I wait breathlessly for the next installment.

So there you have it. Not a political moment in this here post.

Love and kisses,

Beth

Why are my bras too tight?

I have been assiduously counting calories and exercising to no avail.

I hate bras anyway but for the sake of decency, I have to suit up to go out in public.

I have a new tattoo so no swimming for two weeks.

Seattle weather is currently like a 15 year old, emotionally labile with sever mood swings and temperature highs and lows and occasional rain. Global warming is no joke, y'all.

Reading World as Lover, World as Self by Joanna Macy. Depressing and inspiring in equal measure.

Heard Michael Pollen last night speak about his new book/research on psychedelics and new science to treat depression/addiction/anxiety. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

Saw a movie last night, "First Reformed," got great reviews but WEIRD.

As the credits began to roll after an abrupt ending, someone in front of us said, "what the fuck"

Which summed it up.







Last night a group of young men decided to go to a nearby park because the park is supposedly haunted so they could tell ghost stories.

A car pulled up and shot into the trees and a 17 year old is now dead. He was about to graduate from HS.

I went to the park this morning to run the dog and saw memorial flowers and grieving people. Didn't know what happened but saw the crime scene tape.

Looked it up. Found the story.

We've gone crazy, we're going crazy, we're not right.

Have been crying most of the day. 17. His poor parents. Young man of color.

Why?

There is no time to waste now. There is no more time. What are we doing to be kind, to tell the truth, to vote the bastards out of office,  to be agents of change, one neighbor at a time?

Ryan Dela Cruz. That was his name.

This morning despair has flowered. Thinking about a baby who died 9 months ago and her sorrowing parents. The biosphere, o, our beautiful planet. I had to turn off the news when it was announced that permits for killing wild animals in Alaska would be sold...bears, wolves, other predators. Hunters allowed to use dogs and bait, allowed to kill mothers and their young.

Why?

Reading Joanna Macy's book, " World and Lover, World as Self". She devoted a chapter to despair and the uses of despair as an incentive to become active. The hope of hopelessness.

What is it that I am doing to be part of the conversation? This weekend I begin another class on racism for white allies. I may be alone in the room but I will show up to tell my stories and give insights that may land for others. Sleeping through these times is not an option. Avoiding the conversation won't work. If we are interdependent, then every loss is universal, every life, no matter how small or insignificant. It feels like a collective dying off.

The park near my house, with a few old growth trees and bald eagles, has had a fern die-off. A large area brown and wilted. Scientists with their clip boards roam around in overalls, taking notes. Salal and skunk cabbage are ok but ferns, oldest plants on the planet, are taking their leave.

What have each of us done today to counter this planetary suffering?

Metta, karuna, muditta, upekka.

Oh, it's been a long time.

I finished my facilitator training with Against the Stream. I went on another retreat with an amazing teacher-monk, historian, teacher, writer and all around genius. Analayo. While in Barre, Mass, it was revealed that Noah Levine who started ATS has been accused of sexual misconduct, lots of it.

Shite.

Fuck.

So I left the East coast and came back to Seattle where friends and I started Dharma womxn, a community for womxn and womxn identified folk who want an alternative to the local fuckery. We meditate together, talk about the dharma and eat. Eating is important. Builds community and is tasty. We meet at my house. Surrounded by Buddha stuff, statues and paintings and such. I've even started a Quan Yin on my garage door. I hope she doesn't turn out looking insane or malevolent.

I need to renounce the news cycle. Really. It continues to scare and mystify me. I went to visit a day old baby today and fell into a conversation with the (beautiful) dad whose parents are from St Kitts/St Lucia (where I trained as a midwife student in 1985!). He was born in Bristol, UK and then his folks moved to Canada. We talked about other places to live-he's got dual citizenship in the UK and Canada but a green card here. We thought Canada might work out but of course that's not the answer. Ok, how about this. I buy the NYT on Sunday and that's it, all I read. Nah, I won't be able to stick with it. Well, there's always SNL, they got it going on. And what about the Michelle Wolf? My friend Casey and I were whooping and hollering watching her. Damn, she killed.

I discovered who called about the Black man in my yard. My Mexican neighbors said it was the Chinese family a few doors down. The elders who live there don't speak English so I have to catch one of the younger family members to talk to. And I'll leave my phone number with them so they can call me, not the cops. And Victor and I thought a block party would be a good idea.  Cliff has a huge wood fired barbecue grill on wheels. I oughta invite him for sure.

We can learn to stop being afraid of each other.

Spring is springing all over the place.

Dear ones-

I've been away on retreat and a dharma training that is over, at least for now. I am hoping to get invited back but I won't know until June.

But.

Today is Thursday. It is bright and sunny and the dog is sighing at my feet. I've planted peas and spinach in the hopes that the weather won't be totally weird and refuse to nurture little sproutlets.

I have a Black Lives Matter sign in my living room window. I'm currently reading "So You Want to Talk About Race" by a local author, very smart and thoughtful book. I'm not saying any of this to pat myself on the back or be told I'm so woke or anything. I am saying that I am a serious student of both Buddhism and injustice in all it's forms.

And then this happens:

As I was waiting in the Burbank airport  on Monday(Hi Elizabeth!) for my plane back to oh-so-white Seattle, I got a frantic call from my daughter, who had arrived in Seattle earlier that day with her boyfriend. Eden is dating Darius, a lovely, nerdy Black man who works in IT and reads books about wine and speaks slowly because he has a slight stutter.

Apparently a neighbor called the cops because there was 'suspicious activity' at my house and a Black man who was probably a burglar was in my back yard. Four, count 'em, four squad cars, came to my house and thank gawd, Eden answered the door to four of Seattle's finest. They announced that they were investigating a burglary and they had body cameras and audio equipment. Eden lost her shit, of course. Actually, she remained calm and told them she was the daughter of the owner and the Black man was her boyfriend. They went away after neighbors came out to see what was going on. This was all in the middle of the day. Darius had taken a walk (!) and someone decided he was an unknown stranger and of course, he was walking while Black.

My first thought was to leave the country and go somewhere where this doesn't happen. I believe I muttered, "Fuck this fucking racist country".  But obviously I need to stay here and continue the good fight.

I called neighbors to see if anyone called in a 911 call. Nope, no luck. Today I went to the nearest cop shop and spoke to the rather defensive desk cop about the situation and what to do. She couldn't give me the source of the call but she gave me the 'community relations' guy to call. I did, got his VM. zI thought about the local news stations...

I have white  friends and I have friends of color. I do not want my friends of color to be harassed when they come to my house. I don't want anyone who is non-white, female, queer, disabled to be denied their human rights. Period. At all.

My next step is to draft a letter for my neighborhood to tell the story and give them my name and phone number. Call me, don't call the cops. Calling the cops is what gets folks killed. I'll leave letters  in mailboxes.

I've had all kinds of folks come here when I'm not here, to stay here, to use the hot tub, etc. No white person has ever been harassed 'walking around in my back yard".

Any thoughts, dear reader? I won't let it go. Can't.

Dear hearts,

Today is my birthday and I got a facial, a haircut and best of all I did this:

I have loved XX skiing since 1975 when I learned how. It is the most excellent sport. It warms you up. It uses all your muscles. It encourages you to visit beautiful snow covered mountains. It feels like flying when all the conditions are right. And today all the conditions were perfect. The snow was new and groomed. There were hardly any other people. The SUN came out. And I was with Holly, my buddy who is my fellow traveler on all things outside. It was the most excellent day. Well, my right knee was complaining and at one point I was moaning a bit in pain but hey, I'm 68 and still moving. AND I told a few folks that passed me that it was my birthday and I got sung to twice.

Today was very fine and I'm glad I'm alive to feel the cold air and eat a mitten-full of snow with my best friend. And move my body that can still move.

BTW-my hair stylist daughter told me if I want my hair to grow, I can't cut it. I endured for as long as I could but today I broke down. Now I actually feel better without weird hair sticking out everywhere. And it will grow. It will.

Oh dear. Yesterday, I said to Felix, the power poodle, that I was so tired of fighting with him. When he's on his leash, he practically pulls my arm out of the socket so that I have a perpetually sore shoulder and neck. After today's chiropractic appointment, I went to the pet store and bought him a harness instead of a collar as I had heard that this might help. I asked the nice older lady about 'anti-anxiety' meds or something as I have been using homeopathics with no discernible difference in his behavior.

She recommended CBD drops or in coconut oil. Whaaaa???? So I'm game. She tells me how much to give him and 'You can't give him too much!' And there's no way he will be stoned... I believed her. I dutifully measured out a teaspoon in his food and he gulped it right down.

Oh dear. My dog is high. Right now. He's standing and swaying in the living room. I feel so guilty. I've told him it'll wear off soon. No really, he's staring out the window and swaying a little. He's looking confused too.

I've done a terrible thing. He is wagging his tale when I talk to him but he's definitely not my normal hyperactive, loony tunes dog. I wish I could enjoy this moment of peace but I just feel guilty.

PS. It's snowing here and so pretty.

I am such a bad dog owner. Bad, bad.

My birthday is in a week. I'm on perpetual hold with the department of health, trying to track down my midwifery license. A T & T threatened to cancel my phone because they hadn't been paid for 3 months. All because I'm no longer the business owner and all the accounts have changed. In addition, I got an astronomical property tax bill last week. I don't know how we are supposed to retire and support ourselves. I will continue to work in the clinic but I am ambivalent now about attending births anymore. It's hard to resist when I've delivered all the kids in a family but damn, it's tiring. I could just work a clinic day a week and take call if there is someone on vacation.

Bla bla bla.

My neighbor's bamboo is invading my back yard. I spoke to them about it but they like the privacy screen and they aren't really interested in removing it. They offered to hire the guy who painted their house last year to see if he could dig it out. Um, no. Bamboo is a beast to remove and then you have to dig down 2 feet and put in a barrier. And getting it out is tricky. I'm afraid i'm gonna have to hire a bamboo expert who will be costly and, well, see above. One contractor suggested I hire a lawyer but nope, life it too short for that kind of conflict.

I sat in the hot tub at my pool and talked with the usual old folks which I am becoming. Senior housing, the cost of senior housing, free gyms, don't get sick. It was depressing. One lady has had breast cancer, another has diabetes. One guy comes with 2 frozen water bottles. He sits in the tub with one bottle on the back of his neck and he drinks the other one. When both bottles are empty, he gets out and goes home.

Wow.

I'm just complaining here.

2 hummingbirds visit my feeder regularly. One (I think the male) has a ruby throat. They are both iridescent green. They make a 'chip chip' sound when they are hanging on a branch.

https://www.poetrysociety.org/psa/poetry/crossroads/own_words/KavehAkbar/

Doggone it. I just listened to this song that came up randomly in my play list.

Early this morning I volunteered to count the homeless for the State wide annual count. From 2-6 AM. I figured, hey, my work hours suck most of the time anyway.

I was in a team of three, a guy from Vashon Island, Gregory, our guide who is a homeless man with intimate info about the area we are canvassing and me. We had flashlights, hot tea, gloves and hats and raincoats. We were given maps of the unincorporated city which we deciphered with the help of the dome light in the car.

Gregory talked almost non-stop. His knowledge was vast and complicated. We learned that there are camps deep in the woods that line the freeway where local cops can't or won't go to because they are so remote. Two men died of exposure with the cold snap in December. Pretty young girls get hooked on meth and they lose their looks. Renton, the city where we were, has three meals a day for 'unhoused' folk. There are places to shower and relax if you're a family with kids. Otherwise, the shelters kick you out after 6AM so you have to find warm and dry places to hang out until the shelters reopen.

Gregory lost his housing after losing his 30 year job because of an illness. Sometimes he stays with his mom ( but her apartment is too warm at 70 degrees), sometimes he has an apartment. He was going for a job interview the coming week that he was excited about. He explained that there were folk who preferred to live outside-no rent, no landlord. One encampment even has a generator, heat and light. He seemed quite impressed with this situation. When my Vashon Island partner asked him about his wishes for the future, Gregory said, "Oh, I want an apartment of my own!"

Seattle is cold and dark and wet, for many days a year. Be well and safe, all my brothers and sisters.

It's been a week. The women's march in the cold wet Seattle streets. We met in my living room for poster making and tea. We ducked out of the march to warm up and eat Thai food.

The next day I headed over to Bainbridge Island to see my dear dance teacher. I walked on and managed to take the wrong ferry and went to Bremerton. Oops. I came back to Seattle, got on the right ferry and about 10 minutes into the ride, witnessed a woman my very age step over the railing and fall into Puget Sound. She left a pair of shoes and a note and she said to a group of young women who were standing nearby, "I'm going now."

At first I couldn't believe what I was seeing...then people were screaming and running around, yelling for the captain to stop the ferry. These are giant vessels, not easy to stop. Someone threw a life preserver in the water near her but she was far away by the time a dinghy went after her with a rescue crew. They scooped her up and brought her back the the ferry. We headed back to Seattle where she was met by paramedics and an ambulance. 

I'm exhausted today. What cheers me is to look at my living room carpet sparkling with glitter from our women's march signs. Right now I'm writing this post with a down comforter on my lap and the dog beside me. My body is tired and sore and so is my heart. 

This morning I gave a talk about the 'undefended heart.' It's hard, comrades, to stay open to the world as it is. We do our little part to understand the roots of suffering and to heal ourselves, for the benefit of all beings. The woman on the ferry is with me today, her gesture, the shoes she left behind and the sobbing teenagers who watched her flight. How hard it is to stay here and feel the pain. We know. We're holding you in kindness. May you be well. May you be at ease. 

Dears,

I haven't been here for a while. On retreat in California, another desert retreat, this time with women (or womyn or womxn). We've been having a lively discussion about the proper word. Womyn was coined back in the day by white liberal feminists, according to the internet. Womxn is more inclusive of POC and trans persons so...like Latinx is not gender specific as is Latina or Latino. Whew. And asking what pronouns a person prefers is encouraged because we make assumptions, don't we and we can be wrong.

My trans friend is just a woman, end of the discussion. Actually she said, "I am a fucking woman".

We're all getting ready for the women's/womxn's march on Saturday. We're meeting for signage at my house and taking light rail to the rally. I missed the march last year because I was in Burma but I'm going this year. I hope the turnout is huge. The MLK rally here was sizable. I was working.

Last night I went to a training to count the homeless in King county next week. We form teams, one of us is a formerly homeless person and we hit the streets at 2AM. From 2 to 6 we move through encampments, find cars and RVs to count. We don't disrupt folks, or wake them or invade their spaces. They apparently have algorithms to assess the numbers. The tally is rather complicated. I learned that King County has the third highest homeless population in the country. Very depressing.

Gosh, I sound so lecture-y. Well, the county is going to hell.

In other news, I spent some time with a road runner while I was in the desert. He/she/they was, um, running along and he stopped to eye me. I just sat down on the sand and talked to him. I admired his feathers and his long legs. We sat in companionable silence for a good bit. My father's ghost is always with me when I encounter the wild. I didn't hear coyotes this trip but I know they're out there. The desert is very special. In the winter it is tolerable; 70's during the day and 40's at night. So hardy, those plants and animals.

This momma is in a tub of water, making noise and breathing loudly with contractions. I will miss being at births but I do love my soft warm bed. And my poor knees are so achey now. I'm a regular old woman/womyn/womxn now. With friends who are half my age.

Two films: The Shape of Water and Call Me By Your Names. See both to be sustained by the goodness of humans, even in heartbreak.

I'll be with all my sisters and brothers on Saturday. We must look honestly at one another and stand up for what we know is right. See you there.