(not necessarily in that order)
I love seeing these little guys staying cool and moist in my outdoor plants (I’m sure he’s even happier now that it’s raining); but all too often they find their way indoors — which is not so cool!
I like them as neighbors, not as housemates. 😂
There are so many things I’ve been meaning to write about — topics, experiences, events, memories — but I can never seem to get to them.
It’s sort of like I’m walking along and see something interesting along the way. But I’m already carrying quite a few things, so I place it by the side of the path with the intention to come right back and pick it up again. But it turns out that the path is really a moving walkway like in the airport, and I can never get turned around to go back to that interesting thing.
(Hmmm, sort of has the makings of an anxiety dream!)
At any rate, it’s not the perfect analogy. The feeling I’m trying to convey is the sense of time marching on…and on…and on… And somehow I can never go back and complete all the little projects that I intended or promised or started to do.
It’s rather sobering when I think about it.
This afternoon I was skimming an article in the SF Chronicle about iconic San Francisco buildings, of which the Transamerica Pyramid is one of the most recognizable.
I have no particular connection with that building — apart from it being part of the distinctive SF skyline — and downtown was never my favorite part of the City. So, I was a little surprised to be hit by a strong wave of nostalgia as I gazed at the photo.
But on top of that, there was another article about the future of the Cliff House, which WAS one of my absolute most favorite locations in all of San Francisco.
So many beautiful memories…
Today was our Lahiri work day at Ananda Village. I arrived a little late and missed being part of this wonderful photo.
But no worries! I still got to spend the morning serving alongside my fellow residents (all dear friends), being a part of the joyous enthusiasm of the day.
Today I witnessed a friend realizing and graciously accepting a previously unsuspected limitation.
And it got me reflecting — certainly not for the first time — on the bittersweet quality of the autumn season.
Of fully embracing the beauty inherent in the transition. Of being grateful for the abundance and bounty we have enjoyed, even as we accept its unavoidable passing.
Trees, bodies, loved ones. They all change and eventually pass. My prayer is to learn to accept the changes as graciously as did my friend.
This is a rather magical time of year for me.
With Halloween still almost a month away it’s much too early to be thinking about Christmas…unless you’re a choir director.
And in that case, you’re probably already feeling just a little bit behind!
In fact, there’s very likely some inner pressure building inside you to get the program for your Christmas concert firmed up so you can distribute sheet music and practice parts to your singers.
Not to mention that plans for the Christmas Play will also be getting off the ground soon, and music for that will need organizing as well.
When I list it out like that it can seem almost anxiety-producing. But the fact is that — as I review songs, research videos, and listen to recordings; as I start singing the beautiful, joyful, heart-opening, and uplifting Christmas songs — I begin to feel that inner glow of Christmas already growing in my heart.
And suddenly the magic is full upon me.
I was reading about a heat wave coming to the Bay Area and it occurred to me that when I was growing up we almost always encountered some unusual heat in October or November. But we used to call it Indian Summer.
Having caught myself just the other day starting to call a meeting a “powwow,” I found myself reflecting on why it’s called Indian Summer…and whether it’s still called that.
So, I did a little research and found an article that explained why it’s now more correctly referred to as Second Summer.
I find it interesting that I’m having to increase my awareness of terms that are considered disrespectful or even offensive to Indigenous people.
Why? Because despite being one-quarter Native American (one-eighth from both parents), I didn’t grow up feeling Native American. Plus I grew up at a time when cultural sensitivity and awareness were pretty much non-existent.
As children we played cowboys and Indians; we threw up a hand and said “How”; we called one another “Indian giver.” And as young adults we were still saying things like “too many chiefs and not enough Indians”; talking about “circling the wagons” or “holding down the fort”; and describing someone as being “low man on the totem pole.”
It’s sobering to realize how deeply I’ve internalized phrases and comments that seem innocuous but definitely have less than positive connotations.
It was a long day and a full night, and I’ve got an early morning ahead of me.
And because I’ve been gradually re-establishing some very desirable morning routines I’m quite motivated not to oversleep.
So, good night!
I bought this bandana in Guerneville because I loved the colors.
But when I looked at it closely today, I was amazed to discover that — rather than a random pattern of colors — it’s a bunch of turtles playing the banjo!
Ha ha ha! I love it! 😅
A dear friend, who is one of the wisest people I know, sent an email update about some challenges.
The update contained the assurance that she herself was doing fine, as well as a reminder of how — again and again — the spiritual teachings carry us through.
And then she wrote a sentence that I’m going to save because it’s so deeply and helpfully true. She said:
The answer is always the same and it always works: expand our consciousness beyond the body, beyond the present challenge, bring God in, open our heart to God’s grace in all, and in that moment we are carried across oceans of delusion.
Wow. I want to remember this always.