My older child arrives on Saturday this week. We just talked about wearing masks around each other and staying separate. I feel fortunate that I have enough rooms so she can be away from me. We're planning to spend time outdoors, meals, hiking and camping. I will follow her down to southern Oregon to a lovely campground where we will meet up with a friend of hers and her mom. To say I am excited is putting it mildly. She's worried about leaving San Rafael while California is in a terrible state. Some of my friends in Santa Cruz have had to evacuate. I even called Randy, my dog guy, to take Felix. I thought about taking him with me but when I realized he'd have to be on a leash and in my tent at night barking and woofing, I thought, shite, he's staying home. He loves Randy's house where he can GET ON THE BED AND THE COUCH AND WRANGLE WITH  OTHER DOGS ALL DAY. 

BTW, Randy fell off his roof and broke his neck and back. Good gawd, he's getting around with a brace. I thought you were just a goner if you did that. Who knew. Anyway, he stopped over with his husband Stewart and hold the phone, Stewart is gorgeous. Thick white hair, big handsome smile, former model and actor. Hubba hubba. 

These days I'm meeting Clark for an early morning swim. We have a place. No one is in the water and the water is, um, rather cold. But it feels great and then I'm cold for about three hours. The leaves are already starting to fall so our swimming days are numbered. But o, it is so wonderful to see Clark. I love him so. He's funny and sweet and covered with ink and from Nebraska where he had to get out because of his queerness. And his baritone voice is glorious. He sings and plays the piano. I have gay men everywhere and I feel so lucky. 

Back working on my book/paper/article whatever I am doing. Secondary trauma, lightweight topic. I write for a while and then I have to go shake it out or dance or sing or eat chocolate. I'm working from interviews and they are just heartbreaking. I see each woman as I read, telling her story. We are so resilient and we're so tender. I always come away feeling so honored to know these smart and vulnerable women. Each story is our collective story.

I signed up to call potential voters to encourage early ballots and ( of course) the Dem ticket. I was a miserable failure. I attended the training and they went through it way to fast for my old brain. Way. Too. Fast. I gave up after 15 minutes today. I'm not giving up for good, just for today. Technology and I are not friends. Talk about the most important election of our lifetime, or maybe any lifetime. I will not dwell on the RNC fiasco that is currently the news (sic). Not watching. 

Just got a book from Powells bookstore in Portland. If you don't want to give Bezos any more $, buy independent. The Pull of the Stars by Emma Donoghue. A nurse during the flu pandemic in the maternity ward....

Reading the 4th book in the Outlander series. I swear, it's soft porn mixed with history. Doesn't get better than that. I learned that the origin of a burning cross came from the Scottish highlands, nothing to do with terrorism and Black people. It was a way to signal the clans because, well, no cell phones in the 11th century. 

May we all be safe and protected today. May Joe Biden be elected in November. Clark studies archangels-maybe Michael, the healer and leader against the forces of evil can help us. 

I'm being nonsectarian here. Whatever can help us, ok? 

Well the injured dog has an owner and  he/she showed up to claim him. I, of course, have a lot of judgements about the owner but what do I know.

I am now reduced to watching romantic comedies and they are mostly dreadful. I mean, what's with finding your true love to only have them get hit by a truck and die? Seriously. 

A few friends and I are going to watch Cats out on the deck next Saturday. The reviews alone will make it worth it. 

https://digg.com/2019/bad-reviews-cats-movie

And the list of actors! Judi Dench! Idris Elba! Taylor Swift! 

Tis the time to swim daily in the lake. I have found a new beach where there are ducks that paddle among the swimmers.

Recently found this artist in a bad romantic comedy. Beautiful voice and mean guitar.

 

 Kenny, my neighbor, found an injured dog on his porch early this morning. He went to let out one of his dogs and this guy was lying there. Kenny called me this morning after he called animal control so I went over to see. A big pit bull male still intact with cuts and scrapes. Massive face. The saddest eyes. Not able to walk very well, maybe something wrong with his spine. No chip. 

Maybe a car hit him. Maybe he was in a fight. 

We stood around him while the animal control folks got him on a doggie stretcher and got him into their truck. I just heard they went right to the ER with him. 

I'm not about to lecture anyone who isn't a vegetarian. My father grew up on a farm and he hunted and fished and we ate whatever he brought home. Not everyone can be healthy on  a vegetarian diet. I'm not about to judge. 

What I would rather say is that as long as I can remember, my heart moves toward  and was moved by non humans. Baby birds, worms, bats, spiders, snakes. I really don't have a memory of recoiling when I encountered the wild varieties of life on this earth. Instead I was intrigued, curious and empathetic. Maybe that sounds weird but there it is. Kinship, I felt (and still feel) kinship. We're all trying to make our way, being moved by our destiny, whether we are ants or anteaters, a fallen sparrow or a red-tailed hawk. My dad loved nature shows-The Wild Kingdom comes to mind and I loved them too. 

I have a similar relationship with plants. I fuss over my house plants. I rejoice when the garden grows peas and spinach. There is a sense of gratitude for the interconnectedness of my life and the lives of other living things. 

So a big wounded dog on Kenny's kitchen floor this morning made his silent appeal. Which I heard. We all want to be safe and pain-free. We want care and tenderness. We want enough nourishment, food and light. We all love our lives, no matter how humble. The humming birds come to the feeders every day. Felix has his own mysterious ways. The bumble bees outside the window where I sit in morning meditation sleep all night inside the shelter of the flowers. 

Tonight I can wish the big buddy well. May he be safe and warm. May he be treated with kindness. And if he is irrevocably injured, may his death be peaceful. 

 My children are coming to Seattle in September to see me!!!! I can hardly wait. I suggested that they get tested before they leave and then we can hang out together without masks. Or whatever. 

I'll sleep on the deck and they can have the house. I don't care. We can cook and play Rummikub and go for hikes and just be in each other's company. Of all the hardships in my very privileged life, being separated from them is the hardest. It's an actual pain in my heart. There is a thing called 'broken heart syndrome'. 

Apropos of nothing, I have lost almost 10 pounds. My 'third' boob under my real boobs is almost gone and everything feels loose. I actually didn't even finish a chocolate cupcake yesterday. Besides my vanity, the last blood test I had I was 'pre diabetic' and my triglycerides were in the stratosphere. I haven't checked again but after I lose another 10 (!?), I will. If I weigh 130, I'll be back to the weight I was in my 40's. Even now, I haven't weighed this little since then. Plus if I have knee surgery, weighing less is easier on my joints. 

There is the lake mystery. Two folded towels with car keys underneath and a pair of women's Tevas have been in the same spot for 6 days where I go swim. I finally called 911 and they asked if I could see a dead body floating in the water (ew, gross!!!!) Um, no! I would have been reporting that and not some random towels and keys. Someone else called about the towels/keys but there they remain. When I go today, I'll check again. Weird. 

As you may know, I have a dance practice. It's all online now but I do it anyway.

Dance class

The teacher won't stop talking talking talking

when we come here to move our limbs

shake off sleep

anxiety

dreams torn from nightmare pages

she keeps talking

a voiceover explains kinetics    emotional tailings

mute music    strings sob in the background

the beat the beat

someone sings from a hillside

we can feel the sighs of the Adriatic

let us go

please

let this body flow towards the timeless

where there is no language

where we float weightless

astronauts within sight of the furthest moon

Yesterday I made applesauce with blackberries mixed in. And blackberry jam. And elderberry syrup. A regular farm wife I am. Now to start apple butter. 

Peaceful Sunday everyone. 

Please enjoy these delightful twin brothers who are reviewing music videos they are too young to remember. They are hilarious. And there are a whole bunch of them; Prince, Stevie Wonder, Janis Joplin, Dolly Parton, Karen Carpenter and so many more. 

My very bad dog tore up the living room carpet, the kilim I bought with real money from a friend. I cut off all the long bits and vacuumed the fluff and you can hardly see the damage. But he is a bad dog and I don't know why he decided today was the day after I've had this carpet for MONTHS. Sometimes I despair of ever having stuff that hasn't been barfed on, clawed up, chewed up, etc. 

Remind me why we have animals, why???

I knew as soon as I opened the door that something was amiss. He looked...guilty. You know the look. He's like, uh oh, I think I did something I wasn't supposed to do, I just can't remember what, it was so long ago (like an hour). Jeezus Felix. 

My friend just moved into a houseboat. Super cool. I went over there and we talked about everything that needs fixing, sprucing up. Then we went for a swim, right off her dock. It doesn't get better than that. Well, it was hella expensive so I can only dream. But delighted for her good fortune. Some of us work for Microsoft. Some of us are midwives. 

I'm hoping it rains tonight so I don't have to water. A gardener's lament. 

                                                  The Very Bad Dog

My beautiful home.

I talked to my daughters and my grandson this morning. Milo showed me whiskers on his chin (!) and we talked about his girlfriend and the difficulties of relationships (!!!) I'm sure I never talked about birth control and the troubles couples have with my grandparents. I even reminded him that his brain/emotions aren't even fully developed and won't be for many more years. Oh my.

When my parents kicked me out of the house, I was about his age. Here is a boy who is loved and supported and listened to. He has become a caring and thoughtful young man and I can feel that even with the mistakes I made as a mother ( I regret how selfish I was), he has become the good man I hoped he would be. The injuries of our past can be mended. Trauma doesn't have to be passed on and on. And the regret I might feel now is pretty useless. And pointless. His mother and father have nurtured him so that he will have resilience when troubles come his way, as they surely will. 

As I crawl my way towards forgiveness for the past actions of those that were supposed to care for me, I would like to put down the stories that no longer serve. 

As we look towards another year, at least, of isolation we are given the opportunity to see what is important, most important. For now I make aprons for my girls so they can work, make blackberry jam and applesauce, water the garden, play the piano, clean the house, make art and wander through the forests of the Northwest. And I give thanks for the trees and creatures. The lakes and streams. The birds. 

My hiking buddy bailed but I'm going anyway. Mason Lake in the Cascades. Apparently gorgeous views and wildflowers. A bit of a steep climb but that never stopped me before. It's still early and cool out. Felix saw the backpack and he knows what that means.

Water, cherries, nuts and two hard boiled eggs. And the 10 essentials and sunscreen. And hiking poles. I ain't vain.

This is an antidote to feeling so bla the last few days. Lonely. Sad. Grumpy. Missing my family!! So leaving the house of the blues and gonna go see about creation, constantly making and unmaking itself.

Peace out.

No wonder i didn't get the sweatshirt I ordered.

They sent it to my phone number.

See this? You can just make out Mt Rainier in the distance. It is a very tall mountain with glaciers and I have hiked and skied it many times. But that is not what I want to say. Two days ago I went to this spot and strode (is that a word?) into the water with my water shoes, bathing suit, earplugs and cap and I swam way out the the buoy and then I just stayed in the deep and beautiful water for a while. I haven't swum since March. It was sheer heaven, warm in spots, cold in spots.

And the water held me and touched me all over. I hope I never take swimming for granted again. it is the most liberating and profound experience. As I said to myself, it's better than sex or chocolate cake. We are formed in water inside our mothers. Every time I step into deep water, I'm home.

We danced on Sunday and dedicated the practice to John Lewis.



Then the teacher played this song by Patty Griffin. I just lost it.

I think there is a build-up of grief, many lifetimes of grief. If we have genetic memory, the injustices we've seen and felt in our hearts and carried throughout our lives, they are so many and so deep. That's not even a proper sentence but who cares

And so I cried all morning. For all of us. Mr Lewis led an exemplary life. He wasn't a saint, he was a human man who put himself in harm's way many, many times. And there are so many more of us stepping out to confront the oppression and confusion in each other.

My brother came and went yesterday, flying back from Alaska with halibut that he caught.As I dropped him off at the airport, he turned and said, "We didn't talk about politics at all!". And them he said, "All the middle-class white people have to get off their asses and vote".

This from my brother who is suddenly a bit woke.

Sometimes we can be there for a miracle. Or maybe I never really noticed. No matter.

I must honor the sorrow and let it move me. There is always more to do.

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.