https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2020/07/15/asheville-passes-reparations-black-residents-historic/5441792002/

Thank you North Carolina for making my day!!!

In other news, here's what I think about missing my family so much and I can't travel to see them this year. All over the world there are families who are separated. Children taken from their parents at the border, refugees who are far away from safety and home, people who are lonely and sad. I could drive for a long time to California to see my kids and my grandchild but I think it's foolhardy. So I won't. And I am in solidarity with all those who miss and grieve for those they love.

People always talk about 'getting back to normal'. Respectfully, that ain't gonna happen. There is no getting back to anywhere. For a multitude of reasons. Let the rich lose their fortunes. Let the poor and dispossessed and Brown and Black come into a time where there is abundant housing and food and health care and human rights. And the cops have been supplanted by social workers and mental health workers and fucking SUPPORT for anyone who needs it. No getting back to normal for me, while the planet continues to falter and so much misery walks abroad. No thanks.

My garden exploded this year with monstrous plants and the bees are in bee heaven. There are so many, all kinds. The humming birds have taken to coming a bit closer to me as I sit on the deck eating breakfast. Sometimes they fly around my head so they can see all sides of my head/face/hair.

The weather is heating up and that means the lake will be warm enough to swim in. Y'all, this is the most anticipated event ever, at least in my tiny life. I  was swimming at least three times a week and missing it so with the pool closed down for months. We have a huge lake here and I intend to get in it ASAP. I hope my swim muscles aren't completely gone. I still remember how to float.

Just the thought of being surrounded by water, immersed in water, it's the closest I get to, um, extreme pleasure. Soon, my heart, soon.

On the heels of Ms Moon's story about yelling at someone in the grocery store, I was at my nearby park where I walk Felix if it's not too crowded. There are giant signs everywhere that the park is only for pedestrians now, NO BIKES. As I was leaving the park to go to my car, a young woman cruised up to the entrance on her bike and I yelled out, "No bikes, pedestrians only!" She looked around and got off her bike and went into the park wheeling her bike. I turned around to watch her, she saw me and  said, "I 'm just going in to look at the lake" in an aggrieved kind of way.

People.

There are MILES of waterfront along Lake Washington where one can 'look at the lake'. The lake is 27 miles long, fer fucks' sake.

Not to mention about 1/2 the people walking along were not wearing masks, not even hanging from their ears or around their necks. We're not Florida or Arizona but jeezus.

People say they 'can't breathe'. George Floyd couldn't breathe. You there, you can breathe with a mask on. Get over it.

I was so het up, I had to call Justine, our office manager to rant and rave. She is good for that kind of thing. Then we talked about Trump refusing federal aid to Washington because our governor is saying no school in the fall except on-line. What an asshole.

Our gov basically said, screw him.

How did we get here? I still haven't adjusted. I hope I never do.

This weekend is the last class in the series:

https://whiteawake.org/

Peace out, y'all.

Just Because

For what it's worth

the sewing machine is at the repair shop

again

apparently

stitching through many layers

over and over

is tough

needles break

the motor freezes

thread tangles

under the presser foot

even though

you've sewn this pattern

187 times

so far

to make a mask

you need

cotton cloth

elastic

wire

you think about

the person who will wear

a mask with Snoopy fabric

blue and green Seahawks logos

tiny blue and pink daisies

as they care for your mother

an old neighbor

a disabled child

you know it's better than nothing

as their glasses steam up

as soon as their shift is over

the mask lies beside them on the passenger seat

tomorrow

they have another choice

yellow and orange stripes

or the one with children dancing

holding hands

on a background of blue

Seattle.

Capitol Hill Occupied Protest.

Back at home, the eternal cycling of grief, rage, sorrow, moments of beauty (what else are humming birds for?) fatigue. John Stewart reminding us that our discomfort with wearing masks (!!!) for the last few months is nothing compared to 400 years.

Taking the White Awake course again. There were over 500 people on the course. Sunday afternoon for a few hours for four weeks.

The forest this morning was extraordinary. Balm.

Let me explain. The top photo is my current situation with the living room ceiling. Yes, I'm painting the beams (too damn dark) and the plaster which is cracked and old an horrible and a fucker to paint. Then there are the walls and trim (hahahahahahahahahahahahaha). I'll be done eventually.

The rest of the house looks like hell. No one cares. No one come over except to stand around outside.

The beauty is Kubota gardens, started before WWII by a gardener, Mr Kubota, who was interned during the war. He came home and continued stocking the koi pond and tending the gorgeous greenery. When he died, his family left the garden to the city.

This is where we practice Tai chi. It's more beautiful than you can imagine.

Be well, dear ones.

Today we walked in silence for Black Lives Matter. In the rain. It rained steadily the whole way. Nobody complained.  It was a march for mourning. Then the sun came out.

Thousands of us, all colors. Many children. Small groups in the neighborhoods holding signs at intersections. Everywhere. All over the country.

Meanwhile, the asshole is taking away the right to healthcare from our transgender loved ones. How to hold what is here, is happening. How to hold the pain and beauty. How to hold the anger and fear.

Today, I got no answers. I don't think I ever did. Do small deeds with great love.

Folks were passing out homemade cookies. In the rain. Small deed. Great love.

Border town

Perhaps the quiet ones have a volcano

under their tongues

thin boy in the corner

flicks matches at

at his wrecked shoes

his voice stollen from him

at birth

where is his country

the music sticky as honey

magnolia petals float

in the ditch

their color mistaken for bandages

for a fire that won't start

a boy who finally stands

spent matches all around him

like a halo

or a moon

I'm not ignoring the hideous fuckery that is the current state of affairs. Another Black man murdered. A man pretty much like my neighbor who hosts barbeques for vets every summer and has a couple of grown kids and a sick sister and an amazing collection of restored cars and a pear tree in his yard that he lets me pick. A regular guy. A guy who drags his DJ stuff out to his porch and blasts Motown to the street on the weekends so we can dance. I've given him jam and fish and banana nut muffins. We talk about the world together and we do agree that we're scared of the virus and the president.

Or my next door neighbor who is Mexican and sold this house to me. He has a brother who lives two doors away and they have twin girls who were little kids when I moved in and now they're teens. He lives with his elderly parents but they're in Mexico and there until it's safe to come home. He owns a restaurant and he asked if I'd make masks for his workers so I did and he brought me burritos and enchiladas. I share jam and tomatoes and cucumbers with him and his family. And we talk in the street.

Or my neighbor a few doors down who has AIDS and had a heart attack a year ago and has a pacemaker. He's grown a long white beard and he looks like a skinny Santa. He has two big friendly dogs and his yard is immaculate. He's been shopping for me and bringing me the Sunday NYT after he's done with it. We have a divided road down here in the south end and usually the strip is mowed but not this year. The grass is up to my waist. But this neighbor got out his lawn mower and mowed at least a quarter of a mile by our houses. Looks great. He comes over and mows the tiny strip in front of my fence. Just because. I have baking tins to return to him on the counter. And he brings me warm cookies.

Next to him is a Chinese family and the grandma has been carrying around the newest member of the family in a sling on her back. Or she's pulling two young children in a red wagon down the street. They have chickens in their back yard.

Since the pandemic, we are friendlier and kinder to each other. We are keeping track of each other. We are watching a homeless encampment ebb and flow down the end of the street, wondering what to do about the ragged men and women who are sleeping in their broken down cars and RVs.

Sometimes I wish the president would disappear forever, I don't care how.

Sometimes I concentrate instead on the multitudes of kindnesses that I am so fortunate to enjoy from those directly around me.

Gratitude that we are all healthy right now. Compassion for those of us who are not healthy. Gratitude for a roof and food and family and love. Gratitude that it is raining and I don't need to water today. Gratitude for strawberries and the small shoots of the peas.

Despair and gratitude, coexisting in my heart.

I got my teeth cleaned yesterday.  We will pause here for a moment of silence.

They took my temp, they made me wash my hands, they were PPE'd to the gills. Everything was covered in plastic. BTW, I love my dentist. He's a good man and he takes care of his employees. They stay with him.

Anyway. About 15 minutes in, I realized that my hygienist was the first person to touch me since March 17th. Well, she leaned on me a bit and put her gloved fingers in my mouth. But still.

On my walk yesterday, I finally met Leticia, the woman who has the most beautiful garden. She took me into the back yard and O, she can see the lake and the mountains. She has a fountain. And so many flowering plants.

Here she is. And they bought that house in 1995 so she's had time to get it right.

Now this is my garden and this is my elderberry. What a beautiful plant she is. My gardener friend warned me that this girl would get, ahem, big. Lord. I should try to figure out how to make elderberry syrup.

In the 80's today. A bunch of us old swimmers met in the pool parking lot to get caught up.  How can we break into the pool? Should we try under the cover of darkness? As soon as the lake is bearable, I'm getting in...and swimming to the other side. Nah, kidding. I'd be killed by a jet ski. Anyway it's a a mile and a half wide.

Spent the last two days in 'retreat' with a few Buddhist teachers and 37 participants. And I must say. I am feeling fortunate to be able to do this, to have the $$ to afford to pay for a retreat (paid pre-covid) and to immerse myself in the teachings, specifically the Eight-fold path which constitutes the Fourth Noble Truth (there will not be a quiz). As you know, I have studied Buddhism for many years and I still feel like a rank beginner. My mind still wanders, I still think evil thoughts, I still overeat and am lazy and so on. But as I heard a teacher once say, 'I 'm a little less reactive than I used to be.' Perhaps that could be arrived at just by getting older. I like to think it's partly because of my practice.

My practice has also put me in the way of some remarkable people: Sharon Salzberg, Joseph Goldstein, Jack Kornfield, Analayo, Ma Kamala, many beautiful nuns, my dear teacher Adrianne; all people who  have dedicated their lives to offering a way out of suffering.

Forgive me for sounding like an advertisement for a spiritual practice. No one has to join. I merely sharing my gratitude today for my good fortune.

My gall bladder is still pestering me. Before covid I was contemplating getting it out. After 55 years, I've had enough. It has certainly taken a back seat to more pressing concerns, ha! The surgeon called me in mid-March and we both said-nah, not now. I hear that hospitals are allowing for elective surgeries but, um, I'll wait. Mostly, it doesn't hurt, just feels like pressure. Sigh.

My swimming pool ladies who I miss like crazy are having a 'wilding' in the pool parking lot  next Monday. I can't wait. I'm gonna cue up Steve Winwood's Higher Love.



And then there's this-the perfect answer to our current lives:

My tenant is  crying, sobbing really.

She's not asking for help but it's hard not to respond to her. She's lost her job. Her relationship has ended. Listening to her, I hear the cries of the world, all of us in isolation and fear.

My friend Teresa and I are in the midst of our on-line childbirth class, focusing on mindfulness. Teresa's background is in secular mindfulness, mine is, well, on the wisdom of the Buddha. As we teach our students to begin to embrace the present moment, I send love and kindness to my tenant. May she find her way out of her suffering. May she be held and healed.

May we all be filled with the light of lovingkindness and know the grace of compassion.

limbo

we've got nothing

our bucket is empty

crows fly south every evening

over Beacon Hill

interesting

time rolling on

while we mutter

sweat

behind our masks

tulips give way to lilacs

then rhodys then stargazers

in other years

we're too busy to notice

but now

it's a shock to wake up

one more morning

no cough

headache or heat

just the cat on the pillow

dog by the back door

amazement that we're still

somehow

alive

Well, then.

The day cleared up after a bit of rain. I worked (!) all day on Zoom with clients because our dear Abby, one of the midwife/naturopaths has taken off to California. Her father died suddenly on Tuesday and we are all bereft without her. And we don't know why he died. Whatever the reason, we are collectively sad for and with her.

I got called back in to work (virtually) and offered to be backup at births if need be. I'd only go covered in PPE and sit away from the action with the computer recording the doings. And I'l help clean up. Apparently they had 8 births in 7 days last week. It's slowed down this week but hey, it's only Tuesday.

The rest of the week is more Zoom meetings with clients. I've been wanting more work, but not like this. I must say, it's given shape to my day.

Felix is getting a real haircut tomorrow, praise the baby jesus. I cut off his topknot and tail fluff and he looks really terrible. I'm not kidding. His head looks all small and his body just looks...weird. The groomer is out in the boonies and does one dog a day. He'll be bathed and clipped and shaved and combed. If you even want to know about poodle maintenance, feel free to ask me. It's a real thing. Why didn't I just get a normal dog? Oh yeah, the shedding and drooling. I'm more of a shedder and drooler myself.

Time to walk these old bones into the sun, which shines on all of us sinners and saints alike.

I continue to wonder at the fuckery that is our current reality while living here on this little island called my house and garden. Daily walks with a mask, making masks, meditating virtually, dancing virtually, face timing my children, having new relationships with my neighbors, etc etc. And feeling lucky that I don't have to go to work, I can stay here and work from home which is, in itself, a weirdness as a health care provider.

Teresa and I are starting a mindfulness childbirth class in a few weeks. A few hours on Thursday night. On Zoom.

Nancy's birthday is on the 8th so I'm thinking to do a drive-by and blast Stevie Wonder's birthday song on my car speakers. She's getting NY city bagels FEDX to her and she says my name is on one.

Going to take the living room apart and paint it. Even the fireplace. Spending so much time here, it's just too damn dark in there. Dark beamed ceiling and ugly fireplace brick. Gonna switch it up. My buddy Beth has been here working with me in the garden. She's a house painter and I may get her to do the ceiling cuz it will be a bear. I can do the walls and trim.

I haven't said so here but for the last four weeks I've been taking a poetry class with a guy who is not what he claims. Each week he laid out a theme and then told stories about himself which were, frankly, unbelievable. He has claimed to be friends with the Dalai Lama, Thich Nhat Hanh, John Updike, Alan Ginsberg (!), Gwendolyn Brooks, Ted Hughes and so on. Conveniently, most authors he cited were dead. In addition, he claims NA heritage which  was refuted on Google by several NA authors. He even had an award rescinded for a YA novel after it was discovered that he DID NOT have a  PhD from Cambridge  or whatever he claimed. I even wrote to the organization that promotes his class and they sent a nice email back saying that he had written a blog for them for many years and don't believe everything you read, even if it is in the New Yorker and The Guardian. They offered me my money back. But I decided to stick it out for the community of other participants. And here's where I get snarky. His poetry is shite, the folks who participated were also shite writers. Having been in a few writing groups with serious critique and good writers, this was not it. I applaud anyone who wants to do art, we all have that impulse. We all have something we're good at. Could be bread or our garden or our friendliness...

Anyway, I did not get what I was looking for in a writing community.  Fakers are everywhere and people seem to get away with anything these days. Next time I'll be less trusting and do my research first.

Sheesh.

Speaking of poetry,  I ca't write for shit right now and I'm ok with it. I remember writing a poem about Abu Ghraib after seeing those horrifying photos. I had to give myself several weeks before I could write anything about it. And what we're experiencing now collectively and the enormity of it, the disproportionate way it is affecting the poor, POC communities is, of course, business as usual but I am mute.

I have picked up my book or whatever it is. After transcribing many interviews, which is awful btw if you don't type very fast, I am now writing from each voice. Because it is about trauma, I have to stop and take breaks, which is why it's taken me so long to get to it. But the moment is now, trauma is our current reality.

Spring is helping; each day new flowers open, new seeds germinate in the veggie garden. It's warm enough to sit outside and watch the birds and the clouds in the sky and contemplate mortality.

May all of you be well and safe and maybe having blueberry pancakes.

It's Thursday, I think. Just listened to this: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/699/fiasco

Please enjoy. Peter Pan and squirrels on fire.

Went walking with my friend Nancy. We talked about food, Trump (bleh), hair, peonies. The dog ran around continually losing the ball and finding it again. I have an appointment with the dog groomer on May 15th. I'm pretty sure I won't have to explain the state of my dog.

The garden is glorious. The lilacs are on the way out, the peonies are about to open. The lettuce is the size of my thumb.

My sewing machine went tits up after 70 masks but I borrowed my neighbor's so I'm back at it.

News flash-I went to the senior hours at my local coop yesterday. And I spent way too much money but I rationalized that I was out of everything and I won't be back for another 6 weeks. I had salmon and cauliflower mash for lunch. I am so grateful to be healthy right now. So grateful to have the great good fortune to live in Seattle with a good and sensible governor who is caring for us.

Blessings on everyone.

Dear friends,

This weekend I am 'on retreat'. In our former life, I would be in Marin, Cal right now at a retreat center near my daughter's house. During the day I would be studying something called The Eightfold Path, sitting and walking and listening to teachings and so on in a beautiful Dharma hall nestled in the brown rolling hills of northern California. Wild turkeys and deer roam around. At night you can hear the peepers in the stream that dries up by mid summer.

However.

I am in my living room with the dog at my feet. We have already taken a short walk this morning. I've showered (!) and put on clean clothes, just like old times. I washed my hair. I 'dressed up', if tying a bandana around my neck counts. I've even cut my nails.

For two days I will be in a virtual community studying the nature of suffering, or as dukkha is translated, dissatisfaction. Indeed, we are traveling through some pretty intense dissatisfaction right now. Uncertainty, fear, sadness, more fear, longing, all of the conditions that are part of being human.

And so. I've even cleaned my house as if a group of fellow travelers are coming to visit.


I'll see you on the flip side.

Beth


The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

These are almond butter/flour with chocolate, maple syrup, coconut oil and chocolate chips and shredded coconut cookies.

I'm not going to eat them all at once.

I'm not. I have will power.

PS. They are delicious. The whole house smells wonderful.

I got a delivery of groceries from my favorite coop and I swooned with delight. Boy howdy, it doesn't take much, does it. I got soy ice cream and this vegan sandwich they make and raspberries and a mango and peapods and mushrooms. I ordered everything and it was on my doorstep 20 minutes later.

I've taken to listening to Andrew Cuomo's press talks. He did the usual this morning and then he talked about his personal experience with his children during the pandemic. He said he's had more in depth conversations with his daughters than he has had in years. He promises to have coffee with his mother and then he would call to say he was too busy. But now he realizes that time in fleeting and he needs to pay attention to what is important, his children, his mother. It had me tear up a bit. I called at least one kid after listening to him. My world has gotten so small and so large at the same time.

While sitting in the sun today just enjoying my garden, I noticed a male and female hummingbird, twirling and circling one another in the branches of the elderberry tree just above me. They are so small and so present in my garden. I'm vigilant with their feeder, making sure it's always filled. During the snow storm last year, I'd bring the feeder in at night so it wouldn't freeze and put it out in the early morning. Often there was a wee bird waiting for me at first light.

My hair is growing straight down my face. My bangs will be in my mouth soon. I've taken to giving Felix a man bun

You can't tell from his photo but he has a terrible haircut and a man bun and he has no vanity about it. We go out every day to walk the miles that keep us sane. The weather has been glorious. My older child sent me a video of her and Arty walking on the shore in Marin. (sigh). Boy, would I love that. I do go to the lake occasionally but the park is too crowded.

I've stepped down from the board I was elected to last year. We've met three times and after the last BOD meeting, I knew it was time to leave. Many reasons which I won't go into but it was a bad situation which I don't need now or ever. There are things that are so clear now. How do we spend our time? What's important? Being at odds over issues of anti-racism and bearing the brunt of ageism and sexism. Nah, I'll pass.

Eden, my foodie daughter, admitted that she had a fish sandwich and fries from Mcdonald's. Trust me, I've been thinking about fries. I might have to go there to get some. I know. I figured out how to make them  in the oven but it's just not the same.

Well, the end of another weird day. I did this:

Only 80 more to go.

Love and hugs

It's overcast here today. Looks like rain which would be fine because I've planted lettuce, beans and peas. And spinach.

I ordered a pizza yesterday and went to the place to pick it up. They were very careful to distance and I washed my hands when I got home. The pizza was heavenly. Anything to not eat my own cooking for a change.

I'm tired today, could take a nap right now. But I gotta walk the dog. He's quiet too, unlike him. We've been walking around at a great clip for days so maybe today is a rest day. Maybe not.

Tomorrow is a board meeting for a board I was elected to serve on. I wrote a letter to them to state my position and to state what is unequivocal, ie. I will not serve on a board that is 100% white. I'm happy to do social justice work with/for the BOD. There have been two scandals over the last few months. And remember here, we are only two meetings in from the new year. Sheesh. I'm weary of the drama so early in the game.

Mostly, I talked with my old lady friends and what is really bothering me, what is REALLY BOTHERING ME is the happy combo of sexism and ageism. We have been sidelined and when I think of my friends, there is tremendous wisdom, compassion and clarity there to be tapped. My friends and the health field, doctors, midwives, nurses, all with so much to share.

But the young want to start over, make the same mistakes, stumble around when great wisdom is available on every side. When I think of the elders we are losing to this virus, we are losing our past.


"Waiting in Line"


You the very old, I have come
to the edge of your country and looked across,
how your eyes warily look into mine
when we pass, how you hesitate when
we approach a door. Sometimes
I understand how steep your hills
are, and your way of seeing the madness
around you, the careless waste of the calendar,
the rush of people on buses. I have
studied how you carry packages,
balancing them better, giving them attention.
I have glimpsed from within the gray-eyed look
at those who push, and occasionally even I
can achieve your beautiful bleak perspective
on the loud, the inattentive, shoving boors
jostling past you toward their doom.

With you, from the pavement I have watched
the nation of the young, like jungle birds
that scream as they pass, or gyrate on playgrounds,
their frenzied bodies jittering with the disease
of youth. Knowledge can cure them. But
not all at once. It will take time.

There have been evenings when the light
has turned everything silver, and like you
I have stopped at a corner and suddenly
staggered with the grace of it all: to have
inherited all this, or even the bereavement
of it and finally being cheated!--the chance
to stand on a corner and tell it goodby!
Every day, every evening, every
abject step or stumble has become heroic:--

You others, we the very old have a country.
A passport costs everything there is.


--William Stafford

William Stafford says what I want to say. 

It has been a glorious day here, with bright blue skies and just enough warmth to make you want to lie down in the grass. Felix and I took a very steep trail under power lines away from the crowds at our favorite park.

We were in our park a few days ago and headed into the woods where there were no people. Sounds of a woodpecker and eagles. 

Lots of fancy pleasure boats on the lake. Poor poor rich people. Going to their second home or private island to wait out the plague. Read that (of course) Black and Brown folks are dying at greater rates, no health insurance, poorer health, etc. 

Then there's this. If you don't know Randy Rainbow, please familiarize yourselves. 

My friend Rachel delivered care packages to each of her friends today. She brought me a jigsaw puzzle of Harriet Tubman and two Dharma books. Kenny, my bearded queer neighbor, helped me put my Adirondack chairs out in the yard. 

And I put a Gratitude List poster in my window-for first responders, childcare workers, food service folks, our governor,  and kind neighbors. 

May we all be held in the greatest kindness and love. 

Dear ones,

Quiet, so quiet. I live under a flight pattern from Boeing field but the only planes in the sky are little four seaters. No big rumbly cargo planes or passenger jets.

The yard is bursting with beauty; tulips, daffs, magnolia trees, purple ground cover. I've planted peas, beans, lettuce and spinach.

Still making cloth masks until I run out of fabric. I guess Joanne's fabric is doing a bang-up online business right now. A friend is making 300 masks for a nursing home near here. I don't have the capacity to make that many. I can get through 2-3 a day.

I made cookies yesterday that were just disgusting. I'll eat them anyway. The last cookie batch were peanut butter cookies which I mistakenly made with almond butter. Oops. No wonder they didn't taste like peanut butter.

My sister has stopped working and I'm so grateful. She's in her 60's and an RN in a nursing home in upstate NY. She called scared and I encouraged her to quit. We talked about feeling selfish and guilty, leaving our jobs in healthcare. I reminded her that staying healthy ourselves would keep us from becoming patients in a system that is vastly overwhelmed, or about to be. She lives in a very rural place with few resources and there have been a few cases already. It's an impossible call. So far, I am doing what I can do from home for my clinic and so far they are ok. Had a baby last night. I'm doing virtual visits and admin stuff and sewing masks. And participating in chart review.

I don't know where we are today with social distancing and 'flattening the curve'. It's the daily 'fireside chat' with our governor. So grateful for our governor.

May we all be healthy and safe and know we are each beloved.

https://www.afar.com/magazine/goats-invade-locked-down-welsh-town?utm_source=Sailthru&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=040120%20Goats/Hotels&utm_content=A&utm_term=Daily%20Wander%20Newsletter

See this is what happens when we humans disappear. The animal kingdom reasserts itself, as we knew it would. As the skies clear up and the water runs clear again, the earth healing herself is made visible.

All hail the animal world. Especially the goats of Wales.

My tenant has taken herself to her partner's house in the country for Shelter in place (don't know why I capitalized that) and so I'm truly the only human in the house now. She's worried about me but will check on me daily. I have many folks who are staying in touch, delivering food and cat litter etc. So.

On a Zoom call yesterday about the coming surge and plans the independent midwifery community is working on to care for pregnant and laboring women through the next few months as hospitals need every available bed and low risk women need to be off-site. Working from here as I can't be in the midst of the fray as someone who is vulnerable cuz of my age. It's so intense.

The fear/panic is a humming in my chest and gut. From my vantage point in my pretty house, I'm damned privileged. I have food for myself and the critters. I'm apparently healthy. I have money to pay my mortgage and utilities, almost. Close enough. Life getting real without eating out, buying shit and going to the movies.

My daily practice looks like this. Feed Felix and Lola. Check the weather for our walk down Beacon Ave. Dress. Meditate in silence or guided. Wait to eat and shower until Felix and I return. Eat. Shower. Listen to the Catch and Kill podcast (thanks Mary!), etc. Some days I spend a lot of time on the phone or Facetime or Zoom calls. My neighbor works at Home Depot and he says everyone is coming in for supplies for their remodel. I think Home Depot must be closed by now but he's bringing me soil so I can start some veggies in the house.

The walk down the street is a refuge. The smell of the air, cut grass, the birds esp the robins (always a herald of spring when I was growing up in the cold North), the occasional person who is walking far from me. O the blooming world.

The next days are full of rain. Time for an umbrella and rain boots. We're  tough, we NW types.

Today is Eden's birthday and we'll be celebrating via Zoom. I'll wear my Burning Man hat and light candles stuck in a banana.

OMG

It's been a day. No longer going to the store, no longer spending time with my people except virtually. Hanging with the dog and cat. Gave the dog an horrendous haircut but at least he can see. I'll be doing the same to my own head soon enough. I allow myself one long walk a day with Felix, zigzagging down the street to avoid being near to other people. Talked so much on the phone I ran out of power. Counting down the days until I can consider myself out of danger with no contact with others. I figure about 6 more days. In the meantime, every slight throat tickle, every cough brings cold dread into my body.

Started with a virtual guided meditation from some sweet nuns who live in California. They guided us and then let us talk to them/each other. I blubbered as I talked: about my fear, my sadness for leaving my midwife life in such a sudden way, selfishness that I'm not on the front lines with other first responders and feeling useless at home conducting virtual visits with prenatal and postpartum folks. And consults, so many consults. Women are so fearful to deliver in the hospital, they are considering home birth or birth center birth. How awful to be the parents of young children, babies right now. Talked with a dear friend who is a dharma teacher and she reminded me that my feelings of selfishness are sorta self-centered, that I can let go of my 40+ year career as a midwife and let others do the work. That doing what I can to save my own life is ok, there is more to come, I may have more usefulness and that death is inevitable. Of course we all know that. Being able to look directly at that reality has never felt more immediate than now. Swinging from panic to calm to 'normal' back to panic again. It's exhausting.

I've actually written a list of 'things to do if I am unable to because I'm sick in the hospital or I'm dead-caring for the animals, where is my will, who to contact, etc. I asked my teacher if this is a compressed course of "A Year to Live" and she said certainly.

Mary, my teacher, also reminded me to feel the grief, maybe the selfishness is really grief. So I broke   down again and fell into the grace of her loving words. Ah, the suffering of this world. The oddness of the beautiful weather as spring breaks forth over us all and the plague crawling through the human community, picking us off. I won't even comment on the slow and misguided response of those in power. It helps no one. I'm grateful Washington State has a good governor who is doing his best to make rational decisions. I think martial law might come as the numbers continue to climb.

I volunteered to sew masks for our health care workers on the front lines.

Tonight Maya and I watched two episodes of Outlander while on FaceTime. It's our thing. We sync up our computers and watch together.

Lots of food was delivered yesterday by dear friends. I'm good for a while. A little worried about cat food but Felix has three months of food. I wish Lola would eat dry food that she then wouldn't barf up. Sheesh.

Well, I feel like I just vomited all this up. It's the anxiety talking. I'm not in a constant state of panic. It comes and goes. That's how feelings are. When I was still going to the pool almost every day, one of my hot tub pals said, "It's been a good life. I've lived a long time...." I'm just not there. I don't want to die just yet but we don't get to choose that one, do we?

For those of you who stuck it out all the down to here, (and of those who didn't), may you all be safe and well and feeling supported by those who love you. Our world is no longer one we recognize and if we are together on the other side of this human catastrophe, we will be changed. We are changed.

May all beings be free from their suffering. May all beings be well. May my love be with you.

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

                                                       Wendell Berry

The day is beautiful here and Felix and I will go to the park for a walk. With a friend who  knows full well what panic and despair are as a worker with Doctors without Borders. 

She finds humor and joy in the darkest places. 

May we all be at peace. May we be well. May we be free from suffering. 

Well, if I'm warned to stay inside because I'm in a 'high risk' category as an officially old person, I might as well tell y'all a story, a story I've been telling for years from the annals of the weird.

You know I've been a midwife for many years, Many. Years. And sometimes there are situations that take the cake. The WTF situations, the stories you couldn't make up, the once in a lifetime stories. So here goes.

We had a lovely couple who transferred to the hospital when the birth wasn't happening at the birth center. Her sister was visiting from Hawaii and was planning to care for them afterwards. Her sister was at the birth. And this is important, fully clothed. They went off to the hospital, had their baby and we went a day later to visit them and see how they were doing.

We (my partner and I) went up to the postpartum floor and asked for the room number. We got an unreadable look from the ward clerk but no clue to what was coming. She directed us to their room.

Stepping into the room we saw 1) mom in the bed 2) dad standing beside the bed 3) a naked woman and 4) a nurse with her back to the room tending to the baby in her little cot.

Ok, so I scanned the room again-mom in bed-dad by the bed-????naked woman????-nurse with baby. The nurse had a furious look on her face because, um, there was a naked woman in the room??

At first I thought the naked woman was the mom but no, mom was accounted for.

Then I tried to get some information, any information from the parents, by reading their facial expressions or SOMETHING but not a thing. They're happy to see us, la la.

Ok, so this is the sister, now naked, not even a pair of socks. Just a long winding tattoo up her side. Are those morning glories?

So we have our visit. Baby is doing well, nursing well. The sister volunteers that skin to skin contact is good for bonding. ((?????)) Yes, but.

Then the parents want a photo with the birth team so we gather around the couple and their child. The naked sister, camera in hand,  stands on a chair and puts one foot on the arm rest for balance so we get an, um, view of her nether parts. The look on my face in the photo is, well, I'm smiling in an OMG kind of way.

We make our goodbyes and I tell my partner we need to find the hospital midwives because they're the ones we transferred to and I feel a need to apologize or make amends or something. We find their office and they are all gathered there. Before I even get a full sentence out, they say, "We know. That family is the talk of the hospital".

The mom recently sent me a funny video of a kid screaming for 5 minutes while the dad sits quietly waiting for the storm to subside. I think of them with fondness.

There's no accounting for family, is there?

Currently reading Brian Doyle's book of essays, "One Long River of Song". Encountered him in The Sun.

https://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article/article.aspx?aeid=45566#.WS0BVxN95E4

This is one essay. Mostly you'll find his poems on the internet. But his essays are wondrous.

He's a Catholic and I don't even mind. In fact, I rarely care what people call themselves anymore. Including myself. Am I a lesbian? Does it matter? I know it matters in terms of civil rights that we are seen as disabled or a color or race, or gender identity or homeless or what have you. In all the ways we have or don't have access or privilege or voting rights or the ear of the powerful. What I mean is that I'm more interested in connections others allow me to make, to swim through the differences to our common joys and sorrow, our yearning to be happy and free.

And Brian Doyle could be Jesus or Buddha or Mohammed or Mother Teresa. And so could you and I.

Um, an update on the 'new sister' situation. She was born 5 MONTHS before me.

The plot thickens.

And we may never know the 'truth', which I actually think is a slippery eel kind of a thing.

BTW-did you know there is a dish called eel pie. Ew. Thanks to my British ancestors. At least it's not haggis.

Dear ones,

This very day I was born 70 years ago. Many people have celebrated this occasion with me but today, mid-week, was pretty quiet. I meditated, walked the dog, swam, went to a French film and wrote an email to my newly discovered half sister.

WHAT????

Two days ago,  my younger child called to tell me that her cousin Deirdre in Belgrade had been contacted by a 72 yo woman who found her from Ancestry.com. She was born in 1948 and adopted out at birth. She's got a child and grandchildren. Eden is already on Facebook with her new cousin.

To say I'm shocked is an understatement. Just doing the math...Dad was married before my mother and he had a son, my half brother, in 1945. He divorced that wife, met my mother and I was born in 1950. So somewhere in there he had a fling? an infidelity? who knows?? and this person showed up. We're speculating that he wasn't even aware that he had another kid.

We all knew Dad was a ladies man, In other words, he got around and had affairs when he was married to my mother. It was never talked about but we all knew. We all knew.

Anyway, her name is Lauren and I'll just wait to see if she responds.

When Eden called, she said, "Hey mom, you have a sister! Happy birthday!!!" hahahahahahahaha.

Jeezus.

Some of my favorite people. The Oregon coast is glorious.

We've had so much rain here the ground has liquified. When Felix and I go to our park, it's a muddy soup. He slides around and loses his footing. And as he is white, he is like one of those half moon cookies, white above and brown below.

I got him into the lake where he swam for a bit. Then he stood shivering on the shore. No amount of showing off for the black retriever could convince him to go back in one more time.

On the 15th, we all head for the Oregon coast and a seven bedroom house with a sauna and a short walk to the beach for my 70th birthday. My daughter put together a montage of photos to music and while watching, I thought, 'Jeez, I'm fat.' Really Beth, that's all you can say about living this long, in reasonable health, with family and friends who love you. How ungrateful.

I've been elected to a new BOD. It's all white folks. I'm afraid I'll be the squeaky wheel board member, you know the one, who's always complaining about the lack of diversity. I'm gonna be that person. My friend Rachel says if I complain, I need to also have a solution. How about this-Hey, lets start over, using a truly diverse community as our template. And have a BOD that is at least 1/3, 1/4, some number that is POC. How about that?

Apropos of nothing, I bought a new computer. The old one was stuttering and sticking and misbehaving. I got a champagne pink one. It's very pretty.

Don't walk, run to see 'Pain and Glory' by Pedro Almodovar. It is truly a beautiful and beautifully acted film. Antonio Banderas. Penelope Cruz. Other gorgeous actors. I compare it to Moonlight. Really.

Just back from the desert with these darling people

It was a tough retreat but I now have a food handler's certificate for San Bernadino, woo-hoo. Don't  ask. Joshua Tree National Park is soooo alien to my NW life. I kept touching cactus (don't, really) and pulling out thorns with tweezers for  the next few days. After the retreat was over, we repaired to a BNB that had a hot tub, a TV and big soft beds. Eden came with her massive cooking skills so we ate beautiful food. I am so grateful to these women in my life. More than I can ever say.

Dears,

It's snowing here and we're all contemplating alternative routes to work, if there is work or school tomorrow. In advance of the snow, I went  to the Safeway. What a mistake. Huge lines and  I had to wonder if I really needed rice crackers (yes they still taste like cardboard) and a yam. The guy behind me said he would continue to gain weight stuck in the house. He had  yogurt dipped pretzels, two kinds of Ben and Jerry's and a whole lotta other stuff. I didn't mean to be nosy but I'm pretty sure there weren't any vegetables in his cart.

I sent out a big email with the update on my 70th birthday. Next month. On the Oregon coast. Folks are coming from far and wide. Bad poetry night, game night, a treasure hunt and so forth. Plus dogs and kids. And my brother and sister, what's left of the siblings. Much food will be  consumed too.

A cross section of people are coming: gay, straight, trans, POC,  Jewish, Buddhist, agnostic, a woman who is a zoo keeper for gorillas (surely a faith-based occupation).

Snow is still falling. I do love it.

In spite of the weather here right now (rain, gray, cold, yuck), we often get to see the beauty that is Tahoma, the First Nations name for Mt Rainier. Tahoma means white capped or snow covered. And she hangs on to her white head all year because she is very tall.

When we hiked the Wonderland Trail  around the mountain back when, the astonishment of the daily hike compelled us forward. Fields of wild flowers, shallow ponds full of tiny tadpoles, view after view of the peak from different angles, snow fields we crossed,  mountain goats and ground squirrels. The only place I have even been that close was Glacier Bay in Alaska. Astonishing.



Please see this film if you can. Paul Stamets is here in the NW and he taught and studied at my very alma mater, Evergreen.

In a week I'm going to Joshua Tree, which is the desert outside LA. Also splendid.

It's so easy to love the Earth.

I must tell you about the sing-along Messiah Judith and I went to because, well, I must. First of all, I usually go to the Unit church, you know, the Unitarians. They have a real orchestra and a packed house of singers and mountains of cookies for the breaks. Oh, and a really, um, hot conductor with a half white and half brown eyebrow. So there's that. And they give away prizes and let one of us conduct the Hallelujah chorus.

However.

This year I was out of town for that event so we went to another church and so.

The conductor has recently had two knee replacements which he reminded us of a lot. The orchestra was skimpy, very skimpy. And no trumpet. :-(. I mean, how can you sing, "The trumpet will sound" without a trumpet. In fact the only woodwind we had was a clarinet which was quite squeaky. And the violin was cringy. The cellos were ok and thank gawd for the piano.

We stumbled around quite a bit. Some of those choruses are tricky without strong singers and I am not what I would call a strong singer.

The whole thing lasts 3+ hours on a good day but with one thing and another we took almost 4 hours. At one point I looked at Judith and her eyes were closed. I thought she might be meditating but she told me later she was sleeping a little. Oh dear.

Anyway, the Hallelujah chorus sounded splendid. You really can't fuck that one up.

May we all survive 2020 with sanity intact. Avoiding all but the most pressing news would be a start for me. Every tweet from the asshole in the White House is not necessary to know about.

More love. More joy.

Buddha at the airport

Maya had her birthday again and we gathered to celebrate her. On the way home, a Buddha watched over weary travelers outside the Alaska gates.  Life is full of unexpected moments. Thank goodness for my beautiful family. I love them so.

We saw Trevor Noah Friday night and he was splendid and so funny. I brought a hanky so I could wipe my eyes and blow my nose. From laughing. And he FILLED a stadium with people. I sacrificed my tiny Swiss army knife when I wen through the metal detector. It was worth it.

Trevor was polite, no swearing or misogyny. Just plain funny. And he warned us that Pence is scarier than Trump. Gawd.

Yesterday we saw the incomparable Dina, also a need for hankies to wipe eyes and blow noses.



Judith and I will do the sing-along Messiah after I get back from SF and Maya's birthday.

I actually put tiny lights on my wreath on my gate. They've all burned out, guess they're not made for rain.

Another year almost at an end. Time to watch the 1957 version of A Christmas Carol with the incomparable Alistair Sim. Misanthrope becomes Boddhisatva, ta-da!!

Yesterday at the park! In the big city!

She was walking down the main path with purpose. She veered into the bush and came out behind me on the path again. Lots of people with dogs on leashes...Lots of people.

There are bunnies in the park, breakfast for this critter.

Why am I listening to the impeachment hearings? What a river of words. What badgering, talking over, buckets of sarcasm.

I saw "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" with the lovely Tom Hanks last night. Read the article the movie is taken from here https://www.esquire.com/entertainment/tv/a27134/can-you-say-hero-esq1198/

Mr. Rogers was a thoughtful, kind and loving man who helped children (and adults). What would he say about our current political squabble. Squabble, hate-filled rhetoric, grandstanding, whatever you want to call it. Mr. Rogers would have waded in to confront the sad, angry, vengeful person with love. With kindness. With brave attention. With raggety hand puppets.

Really.

How old fashioned.

This morning my tai chi teacher and I walked back to the parking lot together. She is Chinese/First Nations and she's working on archives of Chinese people/families who were deported from the Seattle area back in the day because they were 'taking jobs' (sound familiar?). She says there are transcripts in English but lots of transcripts in Chinese including handwritten stories. The Americans also have written out Chinese names phonetically so that makes the investigation challenging. Local officials did sent people back to China; sometimes a child, sometimes a whole family. She says it's slow going but mirrors current border policies today. Ug.

We meet on Monday in Kabota gardens to practice. The man who designed the garden was imprisoned during WWII because he was Japanese.

You know what. I'm going swimming and then I'm gonna walk the dog and I'm turning off the radio.

Now.

Waiting for Judith to arrive. We are going to Cloud Mountain, a retreat center where I have spent many hours in silence. Consider it a monastery where we are invited to simplify our lives. We put down daily activities-no cooking, no cleaning, no electronics (!), reading is discouraged, no talking or eye contact. We have a simple schedule, waking, meditating, meals, an afternoon break, a talk in the evening, early bedtime, early rising in the morning. An opportunity to gather, make peace with inner turmoil (or at least greet it with some kindness)...

This weekend we are volunteering-cleaning the whole center; bathrooms, bedrooms, dining hall, kitchen, dharma hall. I've signed up for outside where we will prune the grapes, hack away the bamboo and build a bonfire for s'mores.

Mathew will cook for us. Living alone, another person cooking oatmeal for me is such a luxury. This trip, we can talk with each other, find out where we are from, have spirited conversations about politics, the eight fold path, how hard is it to knit socks...

Then we'll come back to the city, in the cold and dark rain.