Good morning everyone. And it is a good one. It's that late summer feeling. A bit cooler and crisper in the morning and at night. I went for a walk last night with my new (3 months now!) husband, Mac, around Suttle Lake in the Cascades 30 minutes west of us. It's a 3 mile loop and it was sunsetting time so I'm still living in the afterglow of that. I feel spoiled by the varied lavishness of nature around here and the generous heart of Mac.
Something you wrote Dan this morning.....something towards the end of your message about not overthinking things. To just take things/gifts at face value and not say "well, in the grand scheme of things, what does this really matter?" I'm not even sure if that was your meaning but it triggered a thought in me. Isn't pursuit of happiness a slap in the face of cynicism?
Monday, August 31, 2009
The Week Begins (at least for me...)
Quick entry this morning. Yesterday I was thinking I needed to write to Donna and let her know that I could not open her poem, because it is in a newer version of word than my computer supports. And it occurred to me to think, how cool it is that I need to write to someone and let her know I can't open her poem. I know someone who writes poetry. I know someone who writes poetry and wants to share it. How lucky I am.
Yesterday before I went to bed, I was texting back and forth with someone who made me feel special. That was a good thing to. Little rings on my cel phone to let me know that I was visible. Hmmmm...make of that what you will. But don't we all need that from time to time?
I laughed so hard yesterday. I can't say what I was laughing about, because, well...it was as we sometimes say a "who did that bless, little hurty thing..." but what the hey...I was laughing and laughing. And thats good.
Today's entry is just for the purpose of touching base with what is grand and good in my life. Sometimes, try as I might, recognizing the awesome beauty and power of the universe in a state of grateful humility, is more than I can muster. And when that happens, I feel like a bad citizen of this world...not properly in tune.
But all of it is part of the power, maybe...so selecting those things that come to mind, selecting those things that are rushing with warmth, and recognizing them as they occur, rather than looking at them and thinking, "yes, but in the grand scheme off things what are they really?" I don't know. Maybe they are the grand scheme, or at least, for today, my part in it.
So thank you. Thank you Donna. Thank you Margaret. Thank you David.
And thank you Mark, for your marvelous entry yesterday.
--Dan
Yesterday before I went to bed, I was texting back and forth with someone who made me feel special. That was a good thing to. Little rings on my cel phone to let me know that I was visible. Hmmmm...make of that what you will. But don't we all need that from time to time?
I laughed so hard yesterday. I can't say what I was laughing about, because, well...it was as we sometimes say a "who did that bless, little hurty thing..." but what the hey...I was laughing and laughing. And thats good.
Today's entry is just for the purpose of touching base with what is grand and good in my life. Sometimes, try as I might, recognizing the awesome beauty and power of the universe in a state of grateful humility, is more than I can muster. And when that happens, I feel like a bad citizen of this world...not properly in tune.
But all of it is part of the power, maybe...so selecting those things that come to mind, selecting those things that are rushing with warmth, and recognizing them as they occur, rather than looking at them and thinking, "yes, but in the grand scheme off things what are they really?" I don't know. Maybe they are the grand scheme, or at least, for today, my part in it.
So thank you. Thank you Donna. Thank you Margaret. Thank you David.
And thank you Mark, for your marvelous entry yesterday.
--Dan
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Jumping In With Both Feet Tied Behind My Back...
Actually, I don't know where the hell that title is coming from...it's one of those "just let the subconscious rip" kind of days. The sort of thing that comes up when you wake up to the sight of a massive smoke plume from your bedroom window, look to the orange-gray light that washes over everything out-of-doors and make a snap decision to venture outside as little as you can get away with today. I had set the alarm early enough to get myself somewhere at 10:00 am. Now the goal wasn't so much "pursuit of happiness" but more along the lines of "avoidance of asthmatic seizure".
But that's alright, there's a lot of happiness right here at home. At the start of the year a friend and I began a Proust reading group -- we're taking about a year-and-a-half to read the entire "In Search of Lost Time" cycle. We meet the last Monday of every month at Skylight Books in Los Feliz. Late this morning I finished the stretch that we'd set up for tomorrow night's discussion. Two happinesses out of that today: first, getting the "required reading" read, and, second, the reading itself. Today, the last sequence of Part One of "The Guermantes Way", the narrator's annoyance with his grandmother taking so long in a park's bathroom facility and holding him up from meeting up with his friends, not yet aware the reason he was being inconvenienced was that she was having a stroke. How I admire and enjoy Proust's ability to put us inside his own consciousness at that specific moment while, side-by-side, both-at-once, enabling us to see the failures of the consciousness in that particular moment.
Another happiness of the day -- lunch! Breakfast was perfunctory, but lunch was pure pleasure. Several days ago I'd made a from-scratch roasted green salsa and cooked it with diced potatoes and scallops. Now I used some of the leftovers from that as a salsa to accompany a cheese and green chile tamale. The pleasant blandness of the tamale with the spicy lemony-tang of the salsa...joy! And that with the both-at-once quality of scallop-brineyness with potato-earthiness...well, few things can put me as firmly in the here-and-now as the immediate sensation of good food. Much can be said, much has been said, about food as a form of self-medication, food as an obsession, food as sublimation, but much can be said, has been said, will be said, about food as alchemy, food as connection, food as something that can put one smack-dab in the present moment in the healthiest, happiest way.
That's enough for now. I can feel my attention span shortening..shortening...gone!
Thanks for inviting me into this process, Dan!
--Mark Sprecher
But that's alright, there's a lot of happiness right here at home. At the start of the year a friend and I began a Proust reading group -- we're taking about a year-and-a-half to read the entire "In Search of Lost Time" cycle. We meet the last Monday of every month at Skylight Books in Los Feliz. Late this morning I finished the stretch that we'd set up for tomorrow night's discussion. Two happinesses out of that today: first, getting the "required reading" read, and, second, the reading itself. Today, the last sequence of Part One of "The Guermantes Way", the narrator's annoyance with his grandmother taking so long in a park's bathroom facility and holding him up from meeting up with his friends, not yet aware the reason he was being inconvenienced was that she was having a stroke. How I admire and enjoy Proust's ability to put us inside his own consciousness at that specific moment while, side-by-side, both-at-once, enabling us to see the failures of the consciousness in that particular moment.
Another happiness of the day -- lunch! Breakfast was perfunctory, but lunch was pure pleasure. Several days ago I'd made a from-scratch roasted green salsa and cooked it with diced potatoes and scallops. Now I used some of the leftovers from that as a salsa to accompany a cheese and green chile tamale. The pleasant blandness of the tamale with the spicy lemony-tang of the salsa...joy! And that with the both-at-once quality of scallop-brineyness with potato-earthiness...well, few things can put me as firmly in the here-and-now as the immediate sensation of good food. Much can be said, much has been said, about food as a form of self-medication, food as an obsession, food as sublimation, but much can be said, has been said, will be said, about food as alchemy, food as connection, food as something that can put one smack-dab in the present moment in the healthiest, happiest way.
That's enough for now. I can feel my attention span shortening..shortening...gone!
Thanks for inviting me into this process, Dan!
--Mark Sprecher
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Hamburgers
I like hamburgers. I've come to realize recently that hamburgers might be my favorite food in the world. I love other things too. I love sushi, and pad thai, and chicken tikka masala, and yeah, you get the drift...I'm international like that, because thats how I do cool. Nah, not really...I just love food, and I don't care where it comes from. Golden Corral is, after all one of my go to choices when it comes time to eat.
But back to hamburgers. Loose crown and all, wrapping my maw around a gloppy mix of charred beef, lettuce, tomato, cheese, pesto, mayo, and bread just makes me so damn happy. I could get all hyperbolic and write about heaven, and nirvana, and state of bliss and that, but the truth is simpler. It just makes me happy. Happy is just fine. I don't need to make it bigger.
Add this though. The face of Maura, across the table, scrunched up and laughing while we tell stories about Idaho, and the horrible barnyard animals. Like the turkeys that chased us. And the psychotic little banty rooster named Lavoris who used to explode out of the bushes like a feathered cannonball, and rake our calves with his horrible spurs when all we were trying to do was walk to the pond. Ah, how she laughed. And Liam and Aidan too.
We all did. Mom and Dad, telling their own stories about the malevolent geese in the orchard who weaved back and forth like Nagaina, before lowering their serpent necks and streaking across the grass to grasp bits of human flesh in their beaks and twist. For no reason apparently, other than pure sadism.
More laughter. More hamburgers.
In my family, despite all the love in the world, we don't always...well, play well together, you know? Particularly in large groups. We are all still recouping, licking wounds, setting aside resentments, picking up where we left off, etc... after a week together at Folly Beach, in a grand sprawling house on the sand, which despite its long arms and expansive heart was still not big enough to hide us from each other. And enough said about that, the point is not what we aren't, but what we are.
The point is not, what we could be, but what we are. The point is not what we cannot do, but what we can. The point is not how we come up short, but how we succeed.
Like hamburgers. Simpler fare, and satisfying in ways that surprise me, because so much of what is simpler, hangs about like curtains, always there but never seen.
Yeah, you know...we might never get to that place where we can all share space in perfect love and harmony. Yes, indeed, I'm joking. We won't. Thats cool. So, whats left?
More than enough. And that makes me happy.Happy like pizza. And pie.
-_DC
Lor, that is the amazing Donna next to your bio. Don't know how you got so lucky. Donna meet Lor, Lor meet Donna...Lor and I are the same person. You are apparently the same person too.
On that note, I'm grateful for this site. Donna, Steve, Lor...I'm loving what I'm reading. A huge deal for me.
But back to hamburgers. Loose crown and all, wrapping my maw around a gloppy mix of charred beef, lettuce, tomato, cheese, pesto, mayo, and bread just makes me so damn happy. I could get all hyperbolic and write about heaven, and nirvana, and state of bliss and that, but the truth is simpler. It just makes me happy. Happy is just fine. I don't need to make it bigger.
Add this though. The face of Maura, across the table, scrunched up and laughing while we tell stories about Idaho, and the horrible barnyard animals. Like the turkeys that chased us. And the psychotic little banty rooster named Lavoris who used to explode out of the bushes like a feathered cannonball, and rake our calves with his horrible spurs when all we were trying to do was walk to the pond. Ah, how she laughed. And Liam and Aidan too.
We all did. Mom and Dad, telling their own stories about the malevolent geese in the orchard who weaved back and forth like Nagaina, before lowering their serpent necks and streaking across the grass to grasp bits of human flesh in their beaks and twist. For no reason apparently, other than pure sadism.
More laughter. More hamburgers.
In my family, despite all the love in the world, we don't always...well, play well together, you know? Particularly in large groups. We are all still recouping, licking wounds, setting aside resentments, picking up where we left off, etc... after a week together at Folly Beach, in a grand sprawling house on the sand, which despite its long arms and expansive heart was still not big enough to hide us from each other. And enough said about that, the point is not what we aren't, but what we are.
The point is not, what we could be, but what we are. The point is not what we cannot do, but what we can. The point is not how we come up short, but how we succeed.
Like hamburgers. Simpler fare, and satisfying in ways that surprise me, because so much of what is simpler, hangs about like curtains, always there but never seen.
Yeah, you know...we might never get to that place where we can all share space in perfect love and harmony. Yes, indeed, I'm joking. We won't. Thats cool. So, whats left?
More than enough. And that makes me happy.Happy like pizza. And pie.
-_DC
Lor, that is the amazing Donna next to your bio. Don't know how you got so lucky. Donna meet Lor, Lor meet Donna...Lor and I are the same person. You are apparently the same person too.
On that note, I'm grateful for this site. Donna, Steve, Lor...I'm loving what I'm reading. A huge deal for me.
the little things
It's the little things that made me happy today. This morning, it was indoor plumbing and coffee. I'd gotten up late, with smoke induced grogginess, covered in a thin, grungy coat of sweat, oil and ash. Sixteen hours later, the elements have again beaten back the curative effects of the shower, and I remain grateful for the plumbing. Showers will bookend this day.
In between, there was a visit to my mom, a little shopping for her, a little shopping for me, a couple of actions around my job search, a meeting with fellowship after at Home, and more fellowship after that at Masa. My dogs have given up hanging out with me as I write, opting instead for the coolness of the night air. They're smart and wise and happy for no reason other than the pack is all present and accounted for. Ah, the little things. And now, a shower.
~ LAF
In between, there was a visit to my mom, a little shopping for her, a little shopping for me, a couple of actions around my job search, a meeting with fellowship after at Home, and more fellowship after that at Masa. My dogs have given up hanging out with me as I write, opting instead for the coolness of the night air. They're smart and wise and happy for no reason other than the pack is all present and accounted for. Ah, the little things. And now, a shower.
~ LAF
Friday, August 28, 2009
Walking as a form of mindfulness
I have been trying to walk the Dry Creek Canyon near my house every morning. It's a paved path at the bottom of a narrow, deepish canyon. Junipers and sage lie low and their scent is the prevailing one here in central Oregon. It's a nice smell--spicy and astringent.
And I try really hard to notice things, to center down, to be fully present. One day it was Lucy in a stroller with big eyes and the generosity of her 6 month old smile. Another day it was a young woman trying, and failing, to keep up with her boyfriend, riding too fast on his bike. Been there/done that, I thought, and wanted to tell her to turn around and ride by herself. See if he even notices her absence.
Mindfulness, taking the now in, is harder than it sounds. Noticing the girl on a slower bike triggers old junk. So I try to get back to gratitude. Not with him anymore. I'm better. I left. I started over. I pedaled away and my breath slows and deepens.
And I try really hard to notice things, to center down, to be fully present. One day it was Lucy in a stroller with big eyes and the generosity of her 6 month old smile. Another day it was a young woman trying, and failing, to keep up with her boyfriend, riding too fast on his bike. Been there/done that, I thought, and wanted to tell her to turn around and ride by herself. See if he even notices her absence.
Mindfulness, taking the now in, is harder than it sounds. Noticing the girl on a slower bike triggers old junk. So I try to get back to gratitude. Not with him anymore. I'm better. I left. I started over. I pedaled away and my breath slows and deepens.
Today
"The horizons you've promised will be brilliant with signs; I am sick of shadows; Blind me with you!"
Some days, when I'm on track, I begin the day by pulling a card from my Rumi deck. I never quite know what to do with it. There was a time when I used to do a simple three card spread...what brought up the present situation; the present; the future and how to deal with it. Lately though I've just been pulling and seeing, reading and wondering. Today's card seems in line.
I've struggled with sleep. Part of it is the heat. Part of it is anxiety. Its something that used to be such a way of my life, and then it wasn't. Acceptance has become a challenge. Tossing today and tomorrow about in the darkness of my bed has become an almost involuntary excercise; one which leaves me breathless and panicky. That will be a good first place to start.
Today is.
Yesterday is not anymore. Tomorrow is not yet. What can I do with this moment, this singular, individual, perfect, precious moment? I can distract myself from it. I can refuse to look at it.
Why would I do that though? That hasn't worked for me. It has absolutely positively never worked for me. But in absence of conscious choice, it has become my go to.
I have work to do. I will do that, and I will let others do theirs. Really I can't do more than that. I can only imagine that I can do more than that. I can only imagine that I can pull the strings. Life ain't no puppet show though. So I can choose to become tangled, and in that I am choosing to never sleep again.
Not the greatest choice there ever was.
--DC
Some days, when I'm on track, I begin the day by pulling a card from my Rumi deck. I never quite know what to do with it. There was a time when I used to do a simple three card spread...what brought up the present situation; the present; the future and how to deal with it. Lately though I've just been pulling and seeing, reading and wondering. Today's card seems in line.
I've struggled with sleep. Part of it is the heat. Part of it is anxiety. Its something that used to be such a way of my life, and then it wasn't. Acceptance has become a challenge. Tossing today and tomorrow about in the darkness of my bed has become an almost involuntary excercise; one which leaves me breathless and panicky. That will be a good first place to start.
Today is.
Yesterday is not anymore. Tomorrow is not yet. What can I do with this moment, this singular, individual, perfect, precious moment? I can distract myself from it. I can refuse to look at it.
Why would I do that though? That hasn't worked for me. It has absolutely positively never worked for me. But in absence of conscious choice, it has become my go to.
I have work to do. I will do that, and I will let others do theirs. Really I can't do more than that. I can only imagine that I can do more than that. I can only imagine that I can pull the strings. Life ain't no puppet show though. So I can choose to become tangled, and in that I am choosing to never sleep again.
Not the greatest choice there ever was.
--DC
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