The four immeasurables

First rosebud in Cornwall Rose Garden

Before I get into talking about that Buddhist concept (the title of this post), I needed to show you that when John dropped me off at the Rose Garden yesterday, I found quite a few rosebuds. This one looks like it might already have bloomed, with all the sunshine we've been having lately. From nothing to a fully formed flower in what seems like no time at all! I also noticed that many of the emerging buds seem to have attracted aphids. Hope someone takes care of that before it damages them.

On Thursday, I enjoyed a wonderful walk with my old Senior Trailblazer friends, and then we had a rather large feast, with all three of the Senior Trailblazer groups, along with family. I used to hike with Group 1 (here's a link to all three groups). It was quite a large gathering, and everyone brought stuff to the potluck. Two of the three groups went on a hike in the Lake Padden area before we ate, and I got to visit with many of my old hiking buddies. It was a little disconcerting to notice that many of them have aged considerably since I saw them last, reminding me that times does not hold still even when I'm not paying attention. Of course, I'm not aging alone; we are all slowing down and losing some of our abilities as well. When you see people weekly, it's easy to miss these changes, but after a year or two, the differences are quite evident.

There are some new faces, mostly members who have discovered the hiking groups since I left. It seems some of them are quite a bit younger, like in their fifties and sixties, rather than in their seventies and eighties. I think I will rejoin the groups by starting by joining Group 2, which has a slower pace, and see how I do with them. I did one hike recently with them, and it was lovely to find myself pretty much in the middle, rather than working hard to stay fast enough with Group 1. This coming week I will join them again, since Melanie is getting too busy to hike with me on Thursdays. She has decided to sell her home and move to Oregon, south of Portland, in order to be closer to her family in California. This entails quite a bit of work, and she's thinking she would like to get her home on the market by the end of this month. Then everything depends on how fast her two-bedroom home sells. So, change is coming, not only to her life, but to all those who are part of her daily activities. Like me, for instance.

Your entire life only happens in this moment. The present moment is life itself. Yet, people live as if the opposite were true and treat the present moment as a stepping stone to the next moment — a means to an end. —Eckhart Tolle

Change is a permanent part of existence, and it is not something we can avoid, no matter how much we might want to. Whether it's attempting to slow down the rate of aging or watching a friend getting her house ready for sale; it's happening all the time. It occurred to me that trying to hold change back is one reason I like routine: it makes me feel like each day is the same as the one before, when nothing could be further from the truth.

I am currently re-reading a book that introduced me to some concepts of Buddhist thinking that have resonated with me, and it's almost like I never read it at all, since the person reading it today is not the one who read it a couple years ago. But one thing I remember and want to share is the idea that there are four immeasurables that we can use to shape the way we move through the world. They are: loving kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. 

Many Buddhist notions count things like this: the eightfold path, the five remembrances, and so on. I think it helps one to recall them when immersed in the study of their concepts. Or whatever; I realize it does help me remember them. We all want to be happy. We sometimes go about procuring that happiness in very unskillful ways, but this doesn’t change that fundamental intent. The challenge we face as human beings is how to be happy together, how to act so our happiness doesn’t impede another’s. Making space for others through the practice of the four immeasurables is an excellent place to begin.

When thinking about writing a new post, I almost always begin by going to a favorite website, brainyquote.com, and look for inspiration. I found the above quote by Eckhart Tolle and went over to Wikipedia to learn more about this interesting person. It turns out that he is still around, and the Wikipedia entry helped me to understand his philosophy. He suffered from debilitating depression for much of his life, and when he was 29 he experienced a life-changing epiphany.

I couldn’t live with myself any longer. And in this a question arose without an answer: who is the ‘I’ that cannot live with the self? What is the self? I felt drawn into a void! I didn’t know at the time that what really happened was the mind-made self, with its heaviness, its problems, that lives between the unsatisfying past and the fearful future, collapsed. It dissolved. The next morning I woke up and everything was so peaceful. The peace was there because there was no self. Just a sense of presence or “beingness,” just observing and watching.

That was when he began to teach others, and his story led him to write several books. I'm going to start with his first one (written in 1997), The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment. I can get it on my Kindle for a really good price. I had never heard of it, or him, before running across that quote. I feel like it will make it much easier for me to practice the four immeasurables to immerse myself with a new author. 

I am afraid that I've been a little bit all over the place with this post, but that's because I am searching for a focus that still, as I come to the end of it, has not surfaced. That's okay; I'm doing this for my own benefit, and for the benefit of my readers. I am feeling quite content to ramble this morning, to allow the corners of my mind to smooth out a little. My dear friend John will be coming by in an hour, to take me to our usual Sunday breakfast, and I need to finish this up soon.

My tea is gone and my loved one lies quietly next to me, not quite asleep, but if I finish this and get up out of bed quietly, I think he will slip back into slumber. I do hope that the coming week will bring you lots of love and compassion, joy and equanimity. Until then, be well, my friends.

Mother's Day 2023

A natural Mother's Day bouquet

When I first started this post, I wondered what is the most appropriate place for the apostrophe in "Mother's Day" when referring to all mothers. I tried various solutions, but actually none seems perfectly correct. So I decided to go with the flow of "most" articles I found,  referring to a singular mother. In any event, I am wanting to talk about my own departed mother.

She has been gone since 1993, but she still to this day visits me often in dreams. I hear her voice sometimes when I least expect it, but it always turns out to be someone else's, or even my own voice. I don't think my mother will ever truly be gone from my consciousness, as long as I am alive.

Daddy, Fran, Mama (and someone in the back)

While cleaning out a desk, I ran across this picture of my parents from some long-ago event in a kitchen that might or might not have been theirs. Everyone is pretty dressed up, and the woman at the stove is wearing a corsage (I think). It was in the years before Mama stopped using henna in her long hair, and Daddy is actually wearing a tie (I've never actually seen him in one, or at least I have no memory of it). Some ancient recollection of having seen Mama's pretty embroidered blouse under her jacket lets me know that I was around somewhere.

I was born right after my parents celebrated their first anniversary, and I suspect this picture was taken in the late 1940s or early 1950s. From the expression on Daddy's face, it was not his first drink of the evening. It might have been a party for someone not in the picture, and some anonymous person captured these three friends enjoying themselves. Fran was an RN from the local hospital who became a good friend to my parents. She was the attending RN when Mama had surgery for some kind of "women's problem," and she urged the doctor not to give Mama a complete hysterectomy. Mama ended up having four more children, and my brother's middle name was bestowed on him to honor Fran's part in his having been born. It's all ancient history now, but the picture preserves the moment; I will never know what the occasion was, but I have spent many hours studying the picture for clues.

I don't think the occasion was for Mother's Day; everyone is dressed for what seems to have been a fairly formal occasion. I don't remember Mother's Day in our family ever having been celebrated like that. We would sometimes go out to a restaurant, which is what I suppose most families do, but we didn't usually dress up. However, since I don't possess any pictures from old Mother's Day celebrations, I suppose I could just invent it as one, and make this my offering to my beloved mother on her day. Just because she's not physically present doesn't mean she isn't still deserving of appreciation for all the years she gave me as her mother.

I know I have given her many bouquets of flowers over the years, so the beautiful lilacs in bloom at the start of this post are appropriate. I have some childhood memories of having picked wildflowers for a bouquet and having given her a wilted but heartfelt gift. Mama was always appreciative of the sentiment. But she was also never one given to long celebrations with her at the center of attention. Mama was a great cook and spent many hours making delicious meals for her children and husband. I sure wish I knew how to make that wonderful cornbread casserole I remember from long ago. 

Our mothers give us so many gifts. They give us the precious gift of life, of course, but they also leave treasured lessons that can guide us along our journeys even when they are no longer with us. —Maria Shriver

It really doesn't matter how old you are, you will always be a child to your mother. And she will often be someone who gives her advice to her offspring to help them navigate the way to happiness.  Mama was a real housewife; she never worked outside of the home except as a volunteer. She spent time with us, although she seldom was without a book or two that she was reading. There were stacks of books beside her bed and in the living room by her chair. I still remember seeing her carrying books home from the library, huge numbers of them, sometimes in boxes. And she read them all. I believe she was one of the most well-read people I've ever known. 

We moved a lot when I was young, and Mama was able to turn whatever place we were living into a real home in a very short period of time. I always remember thinking of home with her at its center, wherever we lived. It was hard when she died, because suddenly the world no longer had a place in it that I felt was my home. She was a central figure to my feeling of safety in the world. It was not something I could ever find again, even when I was grown and a mother myself. I suppose this is fairly common among women, but I don't really know for sure. I only have my own memories of my safe haven with Mama at the center.

Today, this post is a love letter to my irreplaceable mother. I believe she knows somehow that I am still thinking of her and remembering her with love and gratitude in my heart. She carried me under her own heart and gave me a loving and safe childhood against all odds. I am who I am today because of her. I wish all mothers and their children could have been so blessed. She personified love, and so on her day, today, I'll try my best to do the same with everyone I meet. It's the least I can do to honor her memory. Happy Mother's Day, Mama!

Lilacs in full bloom

Sweet smell and blooms

 Lilacs bring such strong memories to me, from many years past, and remembering the strong unforgettable scent of the flowering shrub. It's a good thing the smell is unforgettable, since my smeller now only retains a faint hint of what I once enjoyed in abundance. But it's still there, at least a little. There are so many memories of experiences in the past that have changed in present days.

As a teenager living on an Air Force Base with my family, I didn't have the opportunity to shop in a store, but perused a Sears catalog to pick out my new school clothes each year. I saw a lovely shirtwaist dress that came in lilac flowers with green leaves, and I fell in love with it. My mother ordered it for me, along with some other clothes, but that is the one I remember the most. And once it came, I wore it over and over. The look of lilacs and green like in the above picture bring back memories of those days. It was sleeveless and had a small collar, I remember, and a flowing skirt.

Of course, in those days we also wore full skirts with lots of crinoline petticoats so that we swished prettily as we walked, and which allowed the skirts to fan out and give a glimpse of the petticoats underneath as we sat at our school desks. I have memories of spending long hours washing and treating those petticoats with starch so that they would continue to stand up with wear. Ah, those were the days when I actually felt that my world would crumble if everything in my outfit wasn't just perfect every day. How long has it been since I've even worn any dress or skirt? A very, very long time. But back then, I was quite the fashionista.

These days I care so much more about the water resistance of my jackets, most of which are either used for rain or misty cool conditions. Fashion doesn't even fit into my life anymore. What does fit into my life is waking each day feeling that only the weather will make a difference in what I do with my day. After fifteen years of experiencing retirement from the workplace, from the ritual of getting up every weekday morning and heading to the office, I realize that I have learned a new way of living, and I like it a lot! I decide what I will do with each and every day, not some schedule imposed upon me by others.  and

I have learned that I do need schedules, they make it easier for me to get what I really want out of each day. That, and having a dear partner who shares a life with me that is not imposed from without, but does what makes him happy while I do what makes me happy. I get a lot more exercise than he does, but his days are filled to the brim. We are both so lucky to have found a partner whose desires for happiness coincide. Yesterday was our wedding anniversary, and we acknowledged it, smiled and hugged, and went on about our day. No need for fancy restaurant food or flowers, just enjoying our togetherness. It's not for everybody, but it is perfect for this duo.

Six decades have passed since those halcyon days long ago when I worried about such things as having the correct clothes for school, or petticoats, or any such frivolous activities. I see the kids on the bus sometimes who are heading to school, and most of them are wearing shorts (even when it's cold) and everyone is dressed differently from everyone else. Not so when I was a teenager; you wore the regulation outfit so that you would not stand out. You didn't want to be teased or pointed out that you are not dressed properly. I think the teenage years are when one feels it the strongest, or at least that is my recollection.

I have been watching a delightful limited series on Netflix based on "Bridgerton" characters, and it has dovetailed perfectly into the whole Coronation of the new King of England (which happened yesterday). Although it's based partly on fact, the series also takes a lot of license with what actually occurred in the lives of King George III and Queen Charlotte in the 1800s. I didn't realize that the King was suffering from a malady that meant he was considered mad. Although the story is embellished and changed from reality, it certainly is fascinating to think of what life was like back then. Every society has its norms, just a wee bit different from what it was like six decades ago for me growing up. 

It was pouring in London yesterday during the Coronation, but the streets with filled with those who would not miss the occasion. And it was quite impressive to watch the crowning of King Charles and Queen Camilla. I am reminded of an Emily Dickinson poem that speaks to this time: Springtime in the Northern Hemisphere of our lovely planet, with flowers are sprouting everywhere among the Coronations and the rain.

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King,
But God be with the Clown –
Who ponders this tremendous scene –
This whole Experiment of Green –
As if it were his own!

If you had the chance to go back in time to another era, where would you go? Sometimes I think it would be lovely to have lived during an earlier century, but then again, it would not be so lovely unless I was a privileged individual. And still I would have to deal with the lack of all the amenities I take for granted: electricity, for one, and modern bathrooms, too. When I consider all of those differences, I think I'll stay right here in the middle of the twenty-first century after all. It's given me so many ways to be grateful for all that I am blessed with, including sitting here in the dark writing on my laptop, communicating with others around our wonderful planet. No, I'll stay here.

In just over an hour from now, my friend John will pick me up and take me in his chariot to breakfast, one that would have been sumptuous in any era, and then later I will join my friend Lily to play in a bowling alley with her. I'm not good at it, but I do enjoy being with friends and trying to stay out of the gutter. I do hope you will have a great Sunday, and that you will remember to look around at all the trappings we have, those of us living today in what once would have been unimaginable luxury. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Delightful heat wave

Lilac buds a day or two away

 I traipsed down the driveway yesterday afternoon to see if the lilacs have opened yet. They are close, but the purple ones always open a little after the white ones do. And yes, the white lilacs have made the transition already. We are experiencing full sun and days in the low 70s (21°C) for the first time this year. South of us, in Seattle, I suspect they got into the low 80s on Saturday, setting a record for the date. I would be happy if we never got any warmer than it is now. I can dream, but I know better.

Melanie is still in California, so yesterday I decided to do one of our favorite walks by myself: the trail from the Farmers' Market to Fairhaven. I could have gone with my old Saturday walking group, but they start an hour earlier and now I've grown quite happy to start later and then visit the Market, which is just what I did yesterday morning. And after the walk, I treated myself to one of those fabulous scones from The Scone Lady. I will always get the Bourbon Maple Pecan, if they have it. Otherwise, I get a Marionberry scone, which is pretty darn fabulous. 

On Friday I got my second bivalent booster dose for Covid. I was surprised that I didn't even feel the shot and wondered if I had actually gotten it. But no, by the time I went to bed, my arm was sore, and it's still quite warm to the touch. I slept just fine, but I did seem a little draggy on my walk. There's no way to know what is responsible for what. Maybe I'm still recovering from Thursday's eight-mile excursion. I am feeling quite happy that my knees and other well-used joints cooperated and I didn't have to pull out any of the many knee braces I hauled along. But being older does mean it takes longer to recuperate from strenuous activities.

And that is all I will say about my age. My sister has reminded me that I am constantly bringing it up and making a big deal about it. Everybody gets a little bit older every day, and I think it might be time for me to look up from my navel and take a look around me, enjoy my continued abilities and look for the bright side of life. After all, I do get to choose what I focus on, and there are so many reasons to be happy these days.

That is, if I stay away from the news of the day. It does seem like every time I turn around, there is another crisis happening, either in the nation or beyond. I am fortunate to be living in such a beautiful part of the country, and to have such incredible access to learn what is going on, but if I allow myself to dwell on the awful events, I will not be able to keep my head in a good place. And there is really no reason to wallow in it, right? Someone like me who doesn't have a job to go to any more, and gets to shape her days to her liking, well that means I can look around at the gorgeous springtime burgeoning everywhere, and look forward to the happy days ahead. 

A cool front moved in overnight, and our temperature should be a few degrees cooler today, with the chance of a few sprinkles, but otherwise perfect. I went shopping with my friend Lily and bought myself a new sun hat. It's lightweight and has a little flap that covers my neck. It's a new brand for me, Sunday Afternoons, and I am so happy I found it! Although I like my favorite baseball cap, it doesn't keep the wind out, or cover my neck. This one does both, and it's very comfortable too. I have found that my hearing aids just don't like the wind and the whistling that starts in my ears when I'm out in it is unfortunate. So now I have taken care of that little annoyance.

I really need to learn how to use my cellphone camera better. It keeps jumping into a different mode when I don't mean it to, and I sometimes don't know how to fix it. On my hike on Thursday with Group 2 of the Senior Trailblazers, one of the women took lots of pictures and also some videos. She sent one around in just a few hours after we finished, and I've watched it several times already. I could do that, too, if I could just figure it out. Maybe I'll watch a tutorial on how to do all that stuff, and I can then share them with you. Technology just keeps on improving, but it means that if I want to take advantage of it, I need to put my mind into the mode of learning something new.

There are really two kinds of optimism. There's the complacent, Pollyanna optimism that says, 'Don't worry – everything will be just fine,' and that allows one to just lay back and do nothing about the problems around you. Then there's what we call dynamic optimism. That's an optimism based on action. —Ramez Naam

Hey, that's what I want: to learn how to be dynamically optimistic. It's something I can easily do, since I have a good mind for study, and plenty of options for action. All I need to do is get going, and keep on searching for the correct action for the moment I'm in. Right? It seems so easy when I put it like that, so here goes. At this very moment, I'm creating a post to send out to my dear virtual friends, one that I hope will lift some spirits, including my own. It is springtime, all my body parts work pretty well and don't give me too much grief, and even if my possibilities are not limitless, they are abundant. Here I go! Don't try to hold me back!

And with that cheerful thought, I will bring this post to a close. My dear partner still sleeps next to me, John will be picking me up for our usual Sunday morning breakfast (he's still got a little cough but otherwise is just fine), and the day beckons, with me happily bounding out of my bed and starting my Sunday. I won't forget my new hat, with just the right name for the day. Until we meet again next we, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

April 2023 comes to a close

Endless rows of tulips

This has been a very unusual spring in many parts of the country, perhaps even in the world. I suspect that we will not end up having experienced the coldest April ever, since the last week of the month will bring us normal, or close to normal, temperatures. This picture was taken last Thursday and the tulips are just now mostly up and showing their colors, late in the month for sure. It was perhaps one of the coldest visits I've ever made to the Skagit Valley Tulip Festival. It was mostly the wind, and the fact that we never saw the sun while we endured a twenty-mile-an-hour north wind. But it was worth it; we really enjoyed seeing all the tulips, especially the gorgeous purple ones like these.

I really don't mind cool weather and prefer it to hot days. But there is definitely a limit; we have not seen many days so far this year when we even reached 50°F (10°C). We have been hoping for more sunny days and warmer weather, and I hope I will not be looking back at these days and missing them. We never have many days around here when it gets really hot, even in August. But the way the weather has been behaving, who knows what the summer will bring us? I am just glad that we are not experiencing terrible windstorms or a massive deluge of rain. Just our usual stuff.

I have had a hard time trying to decide what I want to focus on in this post. Although it's difficult, I am determined to stay away from politics and the awful epidemic of gun shootings around the country. But it seems to be everywhere this past week: so many people accidentally shot (or killed) for making an innocent mistake, such as knocking on the wrong door, or someone shooting into a car without knowing who or what might be in it. This happens every day, but lately it's accelerated, or at least it seems that way to me.

What that does is make me fearful every time I leave my house to walk to the bus, head into the coffee shop, or the Senior Center. Looking around to see if there is anyone walking around looking like they're spoiling for a fight and might have a gun  or a knife. This is new for me. In my neighborhood and downtown on the main street, there are plenty of possible assassins on every corner. It doesn't help that there are so many homeless people trying to find shelter on a street corner with a blanket and little else. It makes me jumpy and I feel scared. 

The world is so different today that it was before the pandemic. Only a few short years ago I didn't see so much suffering. Is this because so many people have lost their homes and now have lost all hope? I don't know what else might have caused so much change in such a short period of time. Or is it just that I notice now what has been there all along, gaining momentum but nothing is actually new or different?

Perception is everything. It makes me realize that there is plenty around me every day that I miss because I'm not paying attention. And I'm not alone: on the bus there might be two dozen riders but everybody is looking down at the phones. I'll bet many of the people I see every day don't actually see other people as fellow humans, or even have awareness of anything other than their own internal dialogs. I wonder sometimes what they are looking at or reading, or listening to. Whatever it is, they are not present. Sometimes I am the ONLY person not looking at my phone.

Well, that's enough time thinking about what's wrong, but what about what's right with it all? If perception is everything, then I choose to perceive the beauty and delightful parts of life. Why not? I've changed my perception easily in the past, so I can do it here, now, today as well. Instead of looking for the worst, I can look for the happiness that also exists around me. Children on the school playground across the street, shouting and screaming with exuberance, running for no reason other than they can. Dogs out walking their humans in the early morning, both groups caring nothing about the light rain falling around them. Flowers everywhere, birds singing in the trees, all this puts a lilt into my own step as I walk through my neighborhood. Imagining happy families behind the doors of their homes, everyone with a full tummy and warm clothes. 

Not what we have but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance. —Epicurus

 And while all this joy is happening around me, I am also thrilled to have finally become the proud owner of hearing aids. I look forward to putting them on again each morning, which I do while waiting for the water to boil for tea, knowing that I will hear the kettle as it begins its journey towards a whistle. I love my bionic ears! And the cacophony of birdsong I hear every morning is simply enough to bring me great joy. I know the song of perhaps a dozen different birds, but every once in awhile I hear a new one and wonder what it might be. What magnificent beings that can sing like that!

Ah, yes. What a difference perception can make. I now no longer feel that sense of fear, but instead look forward to my friend John coming to transport me to breakfast in a short while. He was down with a cold for four or five days, but he's back now. I missed him but managed quite well without his presence. I did feel a little lonely in the coffee shop, but he's back now and everything feels right again. I do hope you, my dear virtual family, will have a wonderful week ahead, and that you will also find out how to look on the bright side of life. We do have a choice here. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, and that you will have abundant joy every moment of every day. Be well.

Octogenarian's song

Some of last year's beauties

This coming Thursday, if it doesn't rain, Melanie and I will head down to the Skagit Valley and enjoy the Tulip Festival, since the early tulips have finally begun to show their magnificence to the world. We would have gone last week, but they weren't opening up quite yet. Here's what the Tulip Festival website says now: they're coming out, opening up to the sunshine. A little late, but still.

I have finally seen some early tulips around here, with many other gardens teasing me with their unopened buds, and just a few that receive south-facing sun have actually bloomed. Tulips are such pretty and ephemeral flowers (like most), just around long enough for one to admire and enjoy before they leave for another year. I have now visited the valley long enough to have seen them over many springtime flowerings. I cherish every single spring, and I've now seen more than most people are given: eighty! From the time I was a little toddler until today when I am now officially old, these springtime memories fill my mind and heart and I am overflowing with gratitude for my myriad blessings.

There's more to life than just existing, and I think I have been given the opportunity to know more of life's peaks and valleys than many other people have. For one thing, here I am beginning the ninth decade of life, when I know that not one day of one's existence is guaranteed, and in full knowledge of the brief time ahead. I have lost enough people during my life that I know the importance of celebrating the time we have together. SG and I have shared more than three decades, and I can only hope for a few more days, weeks, months, years to share with my life partner.

Looking back, I see how much the world, and especially my little corner of it, has changed during the time I've been alive. In 1942, when I was born, there were around 2.5 billion people alive on the planet. Right around the time I celebrated my eightieth birthday, the world population hit 8 billion. No wonder it seems more crowded wherever I go, it really is! Almost more than quadruple the number of people: that is not easy to overlook. And that's just the number; our world is drastically different today than it was then. I figure I'm lucky to be old because whatever changes are in store in the future, they probably won't all be rainbows and light. 

But then again, nothing is our future is written in stone. Nothing in our past, either. It all depends on one's perspective. I keep thinking about how quantum mechanics and Buddhists keep saying it's all in our minds, literally. That our experiences are created by our mental processes, and that they are not true for any of the other many minds outside of our own. And my memories of past events keeps changing as I continue to reminisce over this one or that one. I realized the truth of that when I found that I was alone in remembering certain events a certain way, and that when I recalled it once more, it had changed in the way I remembered it. 

You would think this would be disconcerting, but instead I find it sort of comforting, knowing that I can begin to remember people and places in ways that are happy rather than sad, if I (heh) put my mind to it. Sorry, I couldn't help myself with that thought. I'm sitting here in the dark with my dear partner sleeping quietly next to me, and the rain is pounding on the roof as I listen to what is happening outside. John will not be coming to take me to breakfast this morning, because he's sick with a cold. He tested twice for covid, but it appears it is either just a cold or maybe flu. He didn't give it to me, thank goodness, or I think I would have started to develop symptoms by now. I haven't had a cold since I started wearing masks during the pandemic, and I figure that the first one I get should be a doozy, after so much time not getting sick.

And of course, it will come sooner or later, because there are so many germs floating around everywhere, since we are perfect vessels for them to invade. I read somewhere that wearing a mask not only keeps one from being easily exposed to germs, but the warmth of your breath behind the mask also seems to offer some protection against infection during the winter months. 

We are now well into spring, and I am truly enjoying the blue skies (when we have them) and the incredible sounds of birds, now that I have my bionic ears functioning properly, and lovely green everywhere interspersed with the bright colors of flowers of every sort. The lilac bushes are showing big buds just a week or so away from flowering. One of my favorites, along with tulips. At this moment, as I sit here in the dark, I am feeling very content with life and hoping that I might find some time today between the raindrops to take a lovely walk in Cornwall Park, just a short distance away. The park has some magnificent old growth trees that greet me when I walk my normal path, and I greet them back with gratitude for their presence in my life.

I sometimes really wish I could sing, but my voice has become old, just like the rest of me. When I hear someone like Judy Collins (she's 83 and still singing) or Joan Baez (82, who I'll bet still sings in the shower), I figure I could work hard at it and find some voice that could carry a tune, but I don't even try anymore. I do sing to myself sometimes when I'm walking, which is how I know how much my voice has changed over the decades. The birds don't seem to mind, and I certainly love to listen to them as they call for mates or simply sing for the joy of it. I didn't realize how much I missed the sound of birdsong until I got my new ears.

Well, this has become somewhat of a meander through my disconnected thoughts, but it makes me happy to realize that I can still string together a bunch of them and get them onto the page without much difficulty. Another thing that has changed for the better as I have grown older is that the digital age has given me so much more connection that I ever thought I would still have after so many years of retirement. My entire virtual family is here, and we share posts and thoughts with one another that give me great satisfaction. And from all over the world, too! If I dreamed this up through my mind, it is simply one of the best things ever. You, my dear friends, are cherished and loved, and we get to share that with each other every day, every week, every year. To that, I give a resounding YES. 

I am overflowing with gratitude right now, which is how I really love to start the day. I'll search for some good coffee and wish John a quick recovery, and next week I'll be back here with some more memories. Until then, be well, and I wish you all good things.

Easter 2023

Early spring garden

I pass by this lovely garden on my walk home from the Rose Garden twice a week. I have been watching this place continue to grow more beautiful by the day, and I know it won't be long before I am seeing more blossoms appear. Our tulips are actually beginning to show their pretty colors, just a little, after having endured a long and cold winter and spring so far. I don't remember it taking such a long time to see the usual spring flowers emerge from winter's sleep. But today is Easter Sunday, a day that brings many memories from earlier moments in my life into my consciousness. 

I was not raised in a religious home; my mother had been raised as a Catholic and married outside of the Church. My father had never been exposed to religion as he grew up, and Mama, who was in love with him, married him anyway. I don't know what my grandparents on my mother's side thought about it, but his mother didn't seem to have any objections (my paternal grandfather didn't seem to have any say in the matter). It was one of those quick wartime romances, with Daddy being in the Air Force and Mama becoming a housewife. I was born almost exactly one year after they married. They were married for almost four decades before Daddy died.

I was given a very happy childhood, with me not doubting my parents' love, and when I was a toddler of two, my little sister was born. We moved around a lot because of Daddy being stationed in different places, and when I was three, we moved to Puerto Rico, and we lived just a few blocks from the ocean. It was an idyllic childhood, as I look back, but many people would not have found it to be so, since stability didn't come from our residence, but from each other, and we lived each day as it came. My playmates were often speaking a different language from me, so I learned to speak Spanish at an early age. I've forgotten most of it now, but the language is not unfamiliar, and when I hear it spoken I can understand some of it.

Easter Sunday. When I was growing up, we had new outfits and shiny patent-leather shoes, and Easter baskets filled with hard-boiled eggs (which we dyed and decorated in the days before), pretty fake grass, chocolate bunnies and candy. We didn't go to Church, so I'm not sure what we did after all that preparation.

Easter Sunday long, long ago

But it really didn't matter. We did what everyone else did, except for the church attendance, and I was very happy and content with my life. I didn't know anything else, so I never felt deprived, and Mama was very proud of her two little girls. She sewed a lot, and I think she might have made those dresses for us. In any event, Daddy took the picture of the two of us, situated in front of our car and our rented home behind. We lived in military housing, but Mama was a wonderful homemaker and knew how to make everything feel just right wherever we lived. 

Today, both my parents are long gone, although when I think of Easter, I think of them and realize they still live in my memories as if they were still alive. Last night I dreamed of them, so they are not far away at all. But much time has passed, and now I am feeling the years as they settle around my shoulders. The world has changed so very much, and since that picture was taken, the world population has exploded, and because of the internet, we are now able to see what is happening from one part of the planet to the other instantaneously. I think of those two innocent children and am so very glad I was one of them, able to enjoy such happiness, unclouded by world events.

I make an effort to leave what is happening in the world out of my blog posts, since I get more than enough of it on my laptop, or watching the news of the day, and I don't need to be reminded constantly about how many people don't have much happiness in their lives. There is little I can do about it, but I do spend some time every day in contemplation and prayer. Since I am trying very hard to practice ahimsa (compassion for all living beings), it doesn't help to allow myself to get mired in sadness. I can choose instead to look at the bright side of life. So that is what I choose.

I think we need to do some deep soul searching about what's important in our lives and renew our spirit and our spiritual thinking, whether it's through faith-based religion or just through loving nature or helping your fellow man. —Louie Schwartzberg

Yesterday I watched a favorite show, the latest episode of Star Trek: Picard, which is the final rendition of my old friends from Star Trek as they finalize the journey of many decades. I started watching the original series and then moved to The Next Generation, then the subsequent series as they evolved. I enjoyed every one, and many of the characters feel like old friends. Just like me, they are now old and the series is letting us wrap up all their journeys in various ways. This one brings back some characters from Deep Space Nine, as well as Next Generation. And Patrick Stewart (Picard) is as old as I am, and looks every day of his octogenarian years (he's 82).

For those of you who aren't familiar with Data and Lore, they are both androids who were created by Noonian Soong, with Data being a major character throughout the series. He has always wished to be human, feeling the lack of his ability to feel anything at all. Lore was Soong's experiment with an emotion chip to allow him to feel, but he was evil, while Data was an innocent. In this latest series, both of the versions of the android were put together into one brain, with a barrier between the two. In an attempt to bring back Data, they decided to remove the barrier and hope for the best. Either Lore would overcome Data, or vice versa. It didn't seem very hopeful, since Data's positronic brain had an ethics chip that wouldn't allow him to kill anyone, even Lore.

[Warning: the next paragraph is a spoiler alert! Don't read it unless you care to know what happens.] The two of them begin talking to one another, with Lore confident he would prevail, but Data began to share his memories with his brother, things that he cherished and people he cared about. Lore accepted these memories, since he had been jealous that Data was so loved. You might guess what happens: Data and Lore become one, with Data's consciousness ascendant. It was so wonderful to see that outcome, and to know that Data can now feel everything his brother felt.

It made me realize that humans really need ethics to become truly human and able to experience love and compassion. It's the same thing as ahimsa: dynamic compassion is essential to becoming a kind and loving person. When I fell asleep last night, I experienced joy in realizing that humanity is indeed capable of great love and great compassion.

With that, dear friends, I will leave you to have your own Easter experience, and truly hope that it is a good one, surrounded with lots of Easter happiness and joy, punctuated with the occasional chocolate bunny. Until we meet again, dear friends, be well. I wish you all good things.