In my new life I have time for a half hour of quiet time of deep breathing. I keep a pad and try to write down priorities of the day-- both mundane and spiritual. This came to me-maybe our approaching 30th anniversary--I don't know.
A few seconds to inhale
A lifetime to exhale
And in between
Gotta run or at least wobble over to Laurels and occupy Samaya.-have a luminous day my friends.
Between my granddaughter's busy social life of libraries and music class, I attended a writer's retreat at Green Acre with some old and new friends yesterday. Last night I shared an old poem that came to mind because of a discussion about love. I was asked to post it on my blog. I actually don't like a lot of poetry--usually it's over my head. If one comes to me I need to get it out of my head or it rattles around destroying brain cells. Put it on paper, store it on the computer--just as long as it takes the first bus out of town and goes.
Something like what Oscar Wilde said on his deathbed after staring at the garish wallpaper, "Either it goes or I do".
If you journey far into the abstract wilderness
If you are a "wanderer in the wilderness of love"
Remember to tear off little pieces of your dreams
And let them float to the earth
Otherwise you may never find your way home
What is it about love
That pushes you away
And pulls you toward it
With equal intensity
Love causes the sea to rush in
But the sea is the source of tears
Love dances with the moon
But the moon is the birthplace of sorrows
One day the sea will find its calm
One day the moon will lie down on a bed of stars
One day love will find its home
We also heard some Rumi poems. This is my tribute to Rumi
No Rumi at the Inn
Seek refuge within the mountain fortress of oneness during times of praise
Seek refuge within the valley fortress of singleness during times of condemnation
Ah! But what happens when we find ourselves lost in the desert of apathy
Where looks and words whirl furiously before dying at our feet
Seek here amidst the blowing, blinding sands a Rumi home
Most days are a combination of ups and downs so that I walk upright neither weighed down stooped over or levitating a foot off the ground. This weekend was a little unreal because the good news came in a rapid succession. First, and foremost was the birth of Violet Olivia and the good health of of mother and daughter. Second my monthly weigh-in revealed I lost 11 pounds and for the first time in twenty years my weight fell below 300lb.-296.6 to be exact. I was informed that our film on suicide prevention, "Just One More Day" will be shown at a leading Brain Injury Foundation program on March 9. The whole day will focus on the film and their will be no other program. It will be shown in the morning to the members, families, staff, University of New Hampshire interns who spend a semester helping run programs and I don't know who else. The first step in the process of this film used in schools and the training of health professionals. The same weekend I made arrangements with a new gorgeous restaurant to use our world proverb place mats and also sell our world proverb book. This is a test run to prepare us to approach major restaurant chains. Imagine kids and parents everywhere learning that the whole world has wisdom, not just Americans while eating a sandwich. Still a long shot, but who knows. Our radio show is very popular and we are being urged to go weekly and longer(the spirit is willing, but not the flesh. I know I will have bad days as well as good days in the future and some kind of balance will emerge and I will have days when I will walk with a stoop. But I will have my memories intact of floating with my head in the clouds for a couple of days.
I might not be tough enough for this show. Last Tuesday's guests were promoting the documentary, "Lost in Laconia". Lost is the word for those children who lived on the back ward of Laconia State Hospital. A more fitting name would be Laconia Children's Warehouse. The film maker was accompanied by an elderly woman whose gray hair and weathered face concealed an always young mother forever fixed in time and space-a moment when her newborn was judged too imperfect for the world of the perfect. At the age of five they could not care for Janet anymore. Seizures and a litany of physical and mental issues and the urging of experts resulted in her being placed in Laconia. I felt heartsick asking her questions. "Did she know you and your husband?" Could she smile". "Could she stand at all?". She was quiet--a remembered photo hung on some inner wall. " "My husband loved her", she spoke. "She would crawl over to his easy chair at night and pull herself to her feet wordlessly holding out her cheek to be kissed." There is more, lots more, too much more.