Crystal Clear

Spinner dolphins splashing around and playing in a beautiful Hawaiian bay. Awesome enough, but then...snorkeling in deep crystal clear water, I find myself suddenly swimming with a school of yellow fish. And then, when I thought it not possible to be more amazed, I look up and there glides before me a huge, graceful honu. It is flying, yes flying, just as I am in the water. I follow it until I cannot without going out to sea.

There is no saying mu to this. Better to say nothing.

What to Make of This

My efforts at abandoning stories in favor of the here and now are undone tonight as I sit with sixteen family members, all with rich and diverse life stories in progress.

I am on a new page, I see. The page on which one reaps the benefit of sixty-some years of family membership. I find myself in unanimously marvelous company and realize that these are all people I have either grown up with, raised, "auntied," "grandmothered," or who have been chosen by those same people as life partners.

This is entirely too much grace to either be minimized into a sensory experience, or romanticised into a self-observing scenario. What am I to make of this?

Everything Sucks, then Everything is Wonderful Again

Have reached sundown of most days on this trip tried/tired to the max. Drained, aching, an unable to function. My traveling days are over. There is no doubt about it. Thank God I got so many wonderful miles on my traveling shoes before now, or I would be filled with regret.

Thus it was yesterday when we pulled into our "au naturelle" tropical lodging. No room in the fridge for all the food we gathered for 16 family members, a roaring road 20 yards from our screened-in bedroom, a woo-woo vibration machine rattling our bones as others stood on it above us drawing the last quantum of energy away from us. Upon our arrival, our hosts informed us that they had planned a concert for the evening of our family's arrival after 24 hours of air travel. My distress became irrepressible, so the concert was rescheduled. Only slightly relieved, I hunkered down in the bed against the cacophony.

The enormous racket died down around 9 pm, and peaceful jungle sounds took over, eventually giving way to a lovely quiet interrupted only by the occasional car. I imagined happy families on their way home for the day and practiced Marsha Linehan's mantra, "Everything in the universe is as it should be. Eventually, I Ambienated off to sleep.

This morning, all is well once again. Woke at 6:30 (and let there be no mistake- you WILL wake at 6:30) to horses neighing, cattle lowing, VERY busy birds, large trucks on their way to work, hopefully driven by drivers drinking their chocolatey Kona coffee in their favorite cups, and busy kitchen sounds. This morning, our residence looks quaint, rustic, and delightful. And tonight, the racket will be US!!! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Immersed in Blogland

Am absolutely reveling in the miracle of blogland! Let me never take for granted how it is that I can share the daily adventures via the photos, or the words of those I love. From grand never-to-be-forgotten AHA! epiphanies, to adventures while traveling, to just stuff we might mutter to each other between pages of the paper, or driving down the road- it's all there in blogland.

Am now on three vacations via blogs- My kids', my nephew's, plus one in the here and now- mine.

Ain't it something?

Paradise Found

Hapuna Beach- Tame and touristy, but without a doubt one of the most beautiful beaches we have ever enjoyed in our well-traveled lives. And one of very few sand beaches here on the Big Island. A perfect place to play "Beached Whale." The Hapuna Beach Hotel- the perfect place to lick our wounds and recover from massive disappointment.

Impermanence Actualized

Yesterday was one of the saddest days of my life. After whole days and days of agonizing preparation for travel, changes in tickets, etc., etc., etc. I was all ready to make the big trek to Japan. Got to the airport, and found that I did not have the correct passport. Could not go. Dejection of immeasurable depths abounded. Drove home, cried, sunk into bed.

Today I awake, the sun is shining for the first time since we got here to the island. Beaches await, and soon, the family will arrive. We will spend the day exploring beaches. Japan will wait for another day.

Amidst the Turtles and Taro

This is what I see as I sit. Among the treetops aside the huge and undulant deep blue-green taro leaves, having nearly stepped on a magnificent sea turtle while wending my way along black lava effluent on the oceanside yesterday, I find myself spectactularly lacking a need to intellectually wank.

No "As if's"- I get it!!!!!

Now I get Roshi's comment: "There are no 'as if's' in this business." What is perceived must be the experience. "As if" is the result of a mental procedure- therefore an illusion. Can't wait to submit this. But must wait- almost a month. Darn.

Dog Chew for Intellectual Wankers

Now I know what koan practice is! It is a nice rawhide chew for intellectual wankers such as myself. This practice is going much better for me than breath meditation. My mind can sit for hours and hours, gnawing away at the koan, just like Foxy the chihuahua, who if not so occupied, would be idling all around the house, looking for trouble.

The aurora borealis of thoughts that occur around the koan are shimmering and ephemeral. And, an intrusive thought from my brutish daily life stands out like a stray among AKC's. So much the easier to abandon on sight.

I hardly dared to say this, knowing that not all sits ahead will be as glowing as the one I had last night.

Caution from Roshi: "There are no "as if's" in this business." I must remember this. I have no idea what he meant.

Train Practice in the Studio

Tried my train practice (no looking for the end of the train, only at the car in front of my face) in my ludicrously overstuffed studio. In it, I often bog down immediately because I don't know where to start, or I start something and get distracted by something else.

So...I sat down with eyes wide open, and forbid myself to look at anything but what I saw in front of me. I knew that ten or more very enticing projects were literally in arms reach, but I practiced calm attention despite their presence.

It worked very very well. Five or six times I resisted getting up on impulse (my worst problem with meditating alone), though I had to talk to myself about it. (Are you there? Yes, I am here. Let's clean up that. No, you may not get up, you are practicing.)

I wonder if it would be possible thusly for an A.D.D. person to gain some control over the skittery mind. This was not meditation per se, but I was very relaxed when done, and quite pleased with the result.

The Sun that Warms

Dark Visions

As I became more enveloped in fatigue last night, I lay in bed experiencing the feeling of sinking into a dark black and dangerous void. I felt like sharks were circling me; that very very real danger was surrounding my bed. What was that?

I thought that this must be how Barbara feels when she is overcome by weakness as her body reacts to its recent assault. Or even when she contemplates her attacker- the cancer. There was no getting rid of the feeling I was having, so I tried to just lean into, breathe into it, as I often do into pain. Peer into it. What is this? What is this?

Then I thought I had better not lean any farther. It seemed like Barbara had been holding on to us to keep from sinking in there, and I better keep one strong arm out of the death place, so we all did not fall in together. I pulled my head up and out of the water and swam for my life. For our lives.

Sleep came and I arose, rested. This morning I made a point to let Barbara know that even though the Pink Ribbon Party had been lots of play, I do truly see what a terrifying and exhausting place she is in right now. It wasn't a cheerful thought, but I felt that it was a necessary one.

As I write, I am not so afraid of either cancer or death , only suffering. I have had the time and inclination to ponder death and my body's demise, and am reconciled with the body's impermanence. But I have to say that I think it would be terrifying to be encountering a cancer battle without someone in my life who truly saw where I was. I hope it was a gift to Barbara. It was to me.

Exhaustion Arises

Today was a very tired day. Up late the night before. Lots of concern for cousin Barb as she heads back home for round two of chemo. Relief that her night visit to the ER revealed no major problems with chemo, only an infection causing fever and chills. Let down after so many wonderful glowing experiences during the week. The party's over. Back to work.

What can one do when exhaustion arises, but sit down and rest so one is ready for what the next day brings. That we did, that we did.

Do Not Hump

This is about train practice. On my way to an appointment today, and late for it, I get the train signal. It is a long one, and going very slow. Immediate adrenaline, as I look down the track and see no end in sight. Recrimination. Why did I leave late? Irritation. Why don't they put a bridge at this busy intersection? Then I realize- this is a chance for practice.

I vow not to look impatiently for the end of the train. Not only that, I forbid myself from even looking in that direction. Instead I will look only at the train car in front of me. And breathe. OK, well: pigs in a ventilated car, lots of pretty cool graffiti (how do they do that?), an open boxcar (were there hobos inside? at this speed it would be an easy hop), huge tankers, many different kinds of cars (what did they all carry?).

Had I not done this practice, I would have missed the best laugh of the day. It snuck right up on me. There are some cars with large square iron racks on them. Each one says in big letters, "DO NOT HUMP." I look at driver in the car next to me, and say to myself, "I'm sitting here in a van waiting for a train. OK, I will not hump."

Lucky Us

You have been asking how things are going at the Pink Ribbon Spa. Well, for two of us, we have been blessed beyond belief to be able to share this with our cousin. If you want to hear about it from her perspective, go to http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/barbaraz. or click on the title above.

Transportation FUBAR

"I'm not an animal, I'm just using one for transportation." Yah, well sometimes the ride sucks.

Cancer is what it is- a nasty accident of nature that thrusts its unwilling hosts into the HUGE project of learning about, undergoing, and then surviving surgery and chemotherapy. It is exhausting, disgusting, depleting, and discouraging- everything to a human psyche that it is to the cancer cells.

But how to move to a place where cancer is only what it is, and not the center of the universe? I had the experience of having my body's ill become the center of the universe this summer with my mesenteric lipoma and the dire admonitions of my gastroenterologist.

The thing hurts, and it scared the bejesis out of me at first, but somehow, I put it back in its place- another one of the obnoxious but inevitable impedements to my mission in life, and not the center of the universe. By getting the mission back into focus, the lipoma shrunk back to its actual size from the huge thing it had become.

So now, how to help cousin Barb shrink the cancer and the chemo to the size of what they are: just a very obnoxious but inevitable impedement to serving her mission while here on earth and inhabiting the flesh. Oh, and by the way, while living in the flesh, because it is so unreliable, I have decided that complaining IS allowed.

Why I'm Glad I am 60 (Click Here)

Embedded in the title is the link to an article that adds to my joy at living unencumbered by the biological imperatives of childrearing and wage-earning in 2007. Imagine buying in to any of these social networks! Talk about the Emperor's New Clothes!!!!

The article is both funny and terrifying. The youngblood writing it has a very entertaining style and a devilish command of the vernacular. Laugh or shudder as you will.

Oh, and the article goes a long way in explaining the growing attraction to Zen Buddhism in the U.S. In the ancient Orient, monks shaved their heads upon entering the monastery as a way of giving up external clues referencing the social networks of the day. Perhaps today's budding Buddhists are taking a similar stance. (Though in my case, the initial attraction was respite from incessant noise- verbal and otherwise).

This post does no service whatsoever to the beautiful and spiritually rich day I had with my cousin and sister at the Pink Ribbon Spa. The memories of the day are sparkling and untouched by the ludicrousness of popular culture ala consumerism.

Pink Ribbon Spa Grand Opening

The Pink Ribbon Spa had its opening today with first customer, cousin Barb. The art girls were in rare form, laughing, arting, and participating full measure in the opening. It was so good to see my cousin, spunky, though tired after a two-hop flight. No small achievement for one so recently off of chemo. Her day ended with a foot bath and massage. Tomorrow- the Labyrinth and Stations of the Cross at the Redemptorist Center. That and healing sunshine.

No More Zen Podcasts

Have decided to stop listening to zen podcasts and reading zen books. Have been listening and reading intensely for two years now. It was not lost time, not at all. New ideas always open new doors for me. But now I see that the real stuff of zen is the sitting.

Two things influence this: First, someone said recently that unless a practice (he was not referring to zen meditation, but to prayer) is ORGANIC to your life, as interwoven with your day as eating, sleeping, bathing, it can scarce transform you. I have experienced this to be true.

Second, I experienced a huge paradigm shift during recent koan practice. Now I see that the reading, though it fills my mind with neat ideas (a lot better than some of the crappy ones that lurk there), it does not result in organic transformation. To wit, ideas are so easily forgotten in the flow of action, due to busyness, tiredness, caffeine, feelings of the moment, etc. etc.

Will I stop blogging about zen? Not now, for this monk needs to call himself to awareness. For me, the diarying is discipline, and is very organic to my life after only a few short months. The ideas I write are transient and as empty as the ideas I read or hear, but the practice of reflection is not.

Roshi challenged me to experience mu during my daily life. I am saying mu to the podcasts and the books.

A Backyard Shard Party

We had the shard party to end all shard parties today. The entire back yard was full of shards and mosaic artists at work. Underway: A large sign for friend Jeannie's new studio, "Artifacts," several Virgin of Guadalupe murals, a great seashell mirror, and the floor of an outdoor shower.

The weather: Picture perfect. Thinking about tomorrow, when cousin Barbara will be joining the group for her place of honor at the Pink Ribbon Spa.

The Pink Ribbon Spa

My cousin will be coming to our house soon for a break between breast cancer chemotherapy rounds. My sister and I had a wonderful time dreaming up the Pink Ribbon Spa today- everything we could think of that might help someone trying to regenerate healthy cells after having them rudely destroyed by the drugs that kill cancer cells.

Here is the list: 1. Laugh Therapy- all of the funny (I mean low humor belly laugh funny) movies we could think of. Suggestions welcome. 2. Art Therapy- duh! 3. Music Therapy- duh, again! 4. Hands-on prayer 5. Meditation 6. Massage (friend Brenda donated use of her massage table) 7. Healthy food (though her appetite is not back yet). 8. Rude bodily function humor (though she is more refined than we are due to her amazingly graceful mother Sue (not a genetic Wickham) 9. ENP (every nap possible).

Other suggestions are welcome. Please stop what you are doing right now, and spend just a minute praying, intentioning, wishing, or creating whatever form of higher-self energy you know to send blessings toward her recovery.

Threads of this and that

A great Saturday. We had Tucson's version of a blizzard yesterday- that would be rain, rain, and more rain. One of the most painful arthritis days in recent memory while the barometer was falling. Roads closed everywhere due to running washes. Just the day for family business. My children all surprised me in one way or another. It is just a wonder to encounter them as emotionally competent adults, navigating and negotiating family decisions. Even if it was hard.

Today, sun up, barometer up, me up. Went to work in my friend's fiber art studio, where I worked on my son's quilt, made from his deceased father's T-shirts. So long after the traumatizing events of his death, peace has settled in, the fibers are softer, more relaxed, my hands more lovingly disposed. The quilt, surprisingly, looks much better than I remembered.

Then to my first "work" day at the Desert Renewal Center, where to my delight, I was checking folks in for the big 8-day Zen Buddhist Rohatsu. I was both envious and sympathetic. Eight days to practice samadhi is paid for by 8 days of sitting, a physical challenge for even the strongest sitters. Next week my job will be putting together and/or cleaning 60 or so Back-Jacks for the upcoming yoga retreat. I think I am going to like this job.