Dear hearts,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PS. It's snowing here and so pretty.

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

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

Bla bla bla.

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

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

Wow.

I'm just complaining here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dears,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Race is a specious classification of humans created by Europeans (whites) to assign human worth and special status, using himself or white as the model of humanity and the height of human achievement, for the purpose of establishing and maintaining privilege and power for those who would become white.

Dr Maulana Karenga
Dr Michael Washington
Barbara Major

Back and forth to meditation retreats. Last one in Joshua Tree, California. The cacti are prehistoric. Their bones litter the sand. Bunnies, lots of bunnies. Coyotes at night, yipping, barking from peak to peak. There was a swimming pool. Dry heat, everything dries out, sinuses, skin, feet.

Going back in January.

My daughter was with me. Eden. It was lovely to be with her. She did it. She got quiet. She wants to cook at a retreat in the future. :-).

Headed for a retreat on Vashon Island, a very different environment, wet, cold, dark. Dorm rooms. Oh did I say. The Joshua Retreat Center was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Cool.

Reading dharma books. Eating the tough winter veggies that are still standing outside. Kale, chard, an occasional onion.

The heat is on. Appreciating warm socks, a big coat, a scarf from Goodwill, the night sky.

Winter approaches. The leaves are turning, wind is blowing. About to leave again, this time for Joshua Tree retreat where it is 90 degrees... Eden and I are going together. I am thrilled that my daughter will be coming with me. It's been my intention for all these years to never proselytize, I mean Buddhists don't really to that except for back in the day when I was asked 'Do you chant 'nom yo ko renga kyo?' Uh, no. Or the Hari Krishna people. Whoa, they were um, interesting. 'Have you been saved?' was another one.

What is it about us humans? We want everyone to agree with us, our world view, our belief system and then if we get push back, the other person is to be despised and shunned. Herd mentality? We all have guns in our community and we want to keep it that way? We all go to the same church? What the hell.

Indeed. What. The. Hell.

Tomorrow I go to the deep woods to be in silence for 5 days. 5 blessed days. Simple food, a routine of bells and walking and a bit of time with my teacher. Quiet. No electronics. A deer or two. The creek.

my church

Heroic Tales in Spite of Daily News Cycle

My tenant Ren came and said, "There's a dog down in the greenbelt and I think she's tangled up down there. Ren is taller than I am so she could see, which helps.

The greenbelt is my back yard. It's VERY steep, covered with blackberries and nettles. The trees are below but the slope is treacherous. Down in a nook was a small pair of ears and a little face. She barked, not able to move. So I said, 'Let's go figure it out".

We went to the trail at the bottom of the street and tried to bushwack, nope. We climbed back up the hill under the power lines, very steep, but nope. We came back to the back yard and decided to rappel down on a rope, which I had, hooray. I tied the rope to a tree trunk and Ren handed herself down to the pup. After offering treats and ascertaining that she wasn't injured, Ren held her in her arms and climbed back up the slope.

She had a name and phone number on her collar so we called it. The guy said she'd been missing for 3 weeks (!!). She was very thin with a goopy eye. We fed her cat food and gave her water. She quivered and shook.

Her owners arrived and we discussed a nearby vet to take her to. I was, of course, suspicious of them but they seemed sincere and they came over immediately.

When Ren got to the edge of the yard with 'Lucy', we both cried. We rescued a little being, something we could do in this world.

Prince and Tom

Tomorrow Sara and I close the deal. OMG. Today is the last day for me to hold the financial reins, so to speak. OMG.

I hired a financial planner/investment advisor dude. OMG. (To manage my millions, har har)

I have stacks of dharma books on my desk, awaiting my perusal. I am a student, as you know. Again, I am a student.

Yesterday I raced back to the birth center to just barely catch a nice baby boy. What does my future look like...I don't know.

Except.

The sun is shining, I'm going for a swim, I AM going on retreat at the beginning of October with my beloved teacher Adrianne for 5 whole days and I'm still in my bathrobe at 12:30. And I'm doing a dharma talk on forgiveness this Sunday. "Forgiveness happens only when we completely given up on changing the past." -Nancy Anderson.

"I see my light come shining, from the west down to the east. Any day now, any day now, I shall be released." -The Band.

I haven't looked at the news once today. I'm observing a moratorium, for 24 hours I won't get sucked into the national embarrassment/fuckery/nonsense/fear-based awfulness. I can do it! I'm strong! I have will power!!!

May all beings have peace, tenderness and safety today.

This morning we had a baby boy after an exciting ambulance ride. O the firefighters and medics were so nice and gentlemanly in their black shoes and uniforms. And that momma was the hero of the story, pushing out a baby who was FACING US and his head wasn't tucked down but straight up-if you must know, she had to push extra hard to get him out and she did. She just did. The ordinary extraordinary women I am privileged to hang out with, it's astounding what we can do because we have to.

Then tonight I answered a call from a woman who is miscarrying the only baby she has ever conceived. She was crying and I was listening and comforting. Nothing to do except to grieve.

The great wheel of life. At the end of it all, I hope I can look back and see I did a good job, not a perfect job but a good job. A good enough job.

Watching Ken Burns first installment of 'Vietnam' on PBS. Please tune in. I had no idea how long that country was under siege, how many presidents had their eye on the 'situation' and sent $$ and troops covertly. What is it about us humans that we must take other countries, people hostage? Why do we do that? Endless misery.

End of this month, my clinic will once again feed homeless kids in a church basement. I think we're going on 4 years we've been doing this. I have my regulars, folks we've delivered who show up to make a mess o' food in a truly decrepit kitchen. I mean. The burners on the stove are iffy, there aren't any decent knives and the lino is, well the floors need replacing. We make it work, time after time. I do a Costco run, we always have food left over and we feed hungry children.

Going on two retreats in October. I'm beyond weary. We lost a baby and I'm holding so much grief. I want the silence of the forest, simple meals made by someone else and a little bed I can sleep in. No cell phone, no internet, just the quiet dharma hall and my beloved Canadian teacher leading us in chants in her wobbly voice. Refuge, I'm seeking refuge. Someone asked me tonight if I was doing a 'spiritual bypass'. Quite the opposite. I'm not looking to transcend the pain, rather to go deeply into the pain, to hold it with tenderness and love. The loss of a child is a profound loss. All over the world are parents who have lost children and there is a web that connects them all. Grief levels us, makes us more compassionate.

As our very planet suffers, we who are made of earth and sky, we open to the pain of it all. Precious, our lives. How we spend our time. How we treat each other. How we treat ourselves. It's all we have, in the end. Staying open, letting the pain open us in ways we hadn't expected. Softening to love and wisdom and grace.

It's gonna happen. I'm selling my business at the end of September. Sara and I will sit down with lawyers and the BANK and sign a large pile of papers and then they drop a check into my bank account and we shake hands and toast and hoo-boy.

The first time I bought a house, the procedure was about the same. It was me and my realtor and the escrow guy and the BANK and legal pad sized forms in triplicate. I went home after and went to bed. Even though I was signing on to a piddling amount of mortgage, to me at the time, it felt like I was signing away my first born. Gha...

Anyway, this process has taken about a year. And the end is in sight. I am so ready to be done. I'll still work but the business of the business won't be my responsibility anymore. I can't wait.

Here at the birth center with a family in labor. The parents are deaf and they are here with an interpreter. A very expensive interpreter. Which insurance won't pay for, natch. I've made the commitment to provide an interpreter in honor of my deaf mother who had nobody with her for the births of her four children, not even her husband. She didn't sign but that's not the point. Every woman deserves to be supported in her language when she's laboring.

There's a memorial for a baby this Saturday. I can't say much here but the whole community is heartbroken. I'm heartbroken. I'd like to go live in the woods now. With the bears and the deer and the wild birds.

In these times, may we all find peace in our hearts and lives.