(not necessarily in that order)
I can’t explain it — maybe it was last winter’s unusually heavy rainfall? Or something about the temperature? — but for the first time in all the years we’ve lived here, this little tree produced striking fall foliage.
For the past week I’ve been doing double-takes every time I look out the window! If only I had the photographic skill to portray just how beautiful it is.
Stunned is how I felt when I saw the headline announcing the death of Sen. Dianne Feinstein.
It wasn’t that I was surprised she had died; after all, she was 90 years old.
No, it was more to do with the fact that she had such an impact during my years as a young adult living in San Francisco, and was indelibly connected with tragic events that rocked my world at the time.
I’ll never forget the moment in November 1978 that I parked my car in front of my apartment and heard her tell reporters that, as president of the Board of Supervisors, it was her duty to inform them that both Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk had been shot and killed by Supervisor Dan White.
It was shocking in and of itself, but coming as it did so soon after the murder-suicide of over 900 People’s Temple members in the Jonestown massacre, it left the entire city feeling completely traumatized.
I wasn’t fully conscious of it at the time, but as I grieve Dianne Feinstein today, I can inwardly feel the truth of what she said years later: “I hope I projected a calm stability, regardless of whether I felt it myself.”
As a flutist, I had several opportunities to observe Mayor Feinstein up close, during events at City Hall or elsewhere. I even played for a private party at her home. I don’t recall that I ever actually met her, but I do remember being struck by the power of her presence and magnetism.
Of course, it was in the San Francisco Chronicle that I was reading about DiFi this morning. Despite not having lived in the City since 1999, I’ve never acquired the habit of reading any other newspaper. The Chron is another entity that is indelibly connected with who I was and, I guess, still am in some ways.
At any rate, I was deeply moved when I read Dianne Feinstein’s description of how she hoped her legacy would be perceived: “A simple thing. That she did a good job, that she really does care, that she’s been able to solve a lot of problems.”
You definitely achieved your legacy; rest in peace, Dianne.
Earlier this week I was finally able to pay a visit to a local shop in Grass Valley called Back Porch Market. They specialize in many European-style, gourmet food items. But that’s not all.
In fact, a friend was recently raving about their cinnamon rolls, which was a large part of my motivation for going. I did eventually locate the cinnamon rolls, but not before browsing the whole shop at length.
Before I knew it, I had gotten inspired to surprise Ramesha with the kind of meal we would eat in Lugano — featuring homemade gnocchi and a variety of European cheeses (one each from Switzerland, Spain, and Italy).
So tonight we played a recording — An Evening in Italy — on which Swami Kriyananda sings mostly in Italian. Then we ate gnocchi with butter, basil, and parmesan, delicious cheese, and sourdough baguette.
It was a lovely evening!
Of course, the “it” I’m referring to is…Christmas!
Yes, we’re already in meetings for this year’s Christmas Play, and planning for the Christmas Concert isn’t far behind.
After all, it will be October in just a few more days and (as every church musician knows) once we’ve entered the time warp that is October, Christmas is just a couple of weeks away!
Tonight’s celebration of Lahiri Mahasaya was very inspiring, filling the Temple of Light with deep, deep devotion.
The first time I really tuned into Lahiri was the end of September 2001; someone had printed up cards with just the final sentence a longer quote (the full quote is below): Though man’s ingenuity for getting himself into trouble appears to be endless, the Infinite Succor is no less resourceful.
I found those words profoundly reassuring in the aftermath of 9/11 and they are just as meaningful to me in the crazy times we’re living in today!
Solve all your problems through meditation. Exchange unprofitable religious speculations for actual God-Contact. Clear your mind of dogmatic theological debris; let in the fresh, healing waters of direct perception. Attune yourself to the active inner Guidance; the Divine Voice has the answer to every dilemma of life. Though man’s ingenuity for getting himself into trouble appears to be endless, the Infinite Succor is no less resourceful.
— Lahiri Mahasaya
Yesterday in his powerful Sunday service talk, Ananta mentioned a number of things we can do to stay fresh and engaged on the spiritual path.
One suggestion was to sing the chant, “Ever-New Joy,” but instead of the title he exhorted us to, “Sing joy, joy, joy!”
“Ever-New Joy” is one of my all-time favorite chants, but what popped into my mind in that moment was a song from my childhood. I remembered it like this:
I’ve got God’s joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart,
Down in my heart, down in my heart.
I’ve got God’s joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart,
Down in my heart today!
I hadn’t thought of that song in probably fifty years, so of course I had to look it up. Turns out the correct lyrics are:
I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart (where?)
Down in my heart, down in my heart.
I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart (where?)
Down in my heart to stay!
The lyrics go on to express how happy I am that I’ve got the love of Jesus in my heart; and I’ve got the peace that passes understanding down in my heart as well.
All in all, it’s a happy song and I’ve enjoyed getting reacquainted with it.
What I didn’t enjoy so much was the search for a video of the song to share. Oh my goodness!
All the videos are geared for children — not surprisingly, since it’s a children’s song — but they were so overproduced, over-the-top and just plain silly as to be unwatchable.
There were animated ones, and awkwardly acted ones, and heavy, agitated drumbeat ones. Unfortunately, they didn’t feel joyful to me, just forced.
But I finally found one that’s sweet (I think), so I hope you enjoy it.
I’ve been re-reading blog posts from a year ago and can hardly believe it was me who was going through all that last year.
One thing I’m hyper-aware of is being able to once again fully experience autumn.
We were super grateful for our time in Sacramento, but the fall there really can’t compare with Ananda Village. Not to mention how distracted we were!
Now I’m happy to be here for the duration.
Every now and then preparing Sunday service music requires non-musical skills learned in grade school, involving colored pens.
Why? Because not only does tomorrow’s song require a goodly number of singers, but we have to be in a specific formation. And that means we can’t move people around to achieve a nice distribution of colors.
Welcome to my world! 😅
Feels like a fitting end for a long, full couple of weeks.
Happy weekend! 😄
A bench painted with compassion, love & trust, spirituality, awareness, growth, health, creativity, and courage.
Mandala bedspreads in our Airbnb.
An embroidered velvet guitar case in a funky cute shop.
Seems to me they’re definitely keeping Guerneville nice and groovy. 🌈☮️
