Gratitude Day. Harvest Celebrations. Thanksgiving. Let's eat our gratitude. May that be our food. Eat our thankfulness, chew it, swallow and eat some more until we are bursting with blessings, belching joy from a belly round with laughter.
How cute is this for a perfect fall photo op. These frisky fellows were enjoying a jack-o-lantern feast on our patio, while the boys enjoyed pumpkin pie at the kitchen table. It is always fun to see something planted and full of hope in the spring become a meal for family and furry friends in the fall. Happy autumn to each of you!
I don't kill spiders. It's not from a strict adherence to non-violence. I kill mosquitos and the occasional gnat or centipede, I eat fish and other fleshy creatures (though it is rare and sadly with a burden of guilt, which is a gustatory downer). I just don't kill spiders. I talk to them. If they are dangerous, they go outside, otherwise we live side by side in companionable tolerance. They walk across the floor, the tub, the counter, leisurely and with an air of belonging. Today I saw one scurry, eight legs literally racing across the kitchen rug over the cool spanish tiles, speeding toward a dark space beneath Bodhi's wooden step stool. It was such a strange occurrence after years of spiders creeping from place to place. This spider looked scared, though no doubt I am anthropomorphosizing. I stood for some time wondering how often I feel like that spider looked, imagining the world I inhabit dangerous, frightening and ominous. How often do I hurry pell mell
My life feels grey, heavy, frightening...like there is a storm just about to break, a smell of ozone, impending darkness and I am uncertain of shelter. I find myself on the point of tears often. I don't know if it is because my Grandmother is gone or because the sharp reality of mortal existence has finally dawned on me. Tears roll, salty, down cheeks, blurring my vision and the world I see. Suddenly my willingness to accept the monotony of half living, silent suffering mediocrity and deeply buried truths, seems harder to bear. I, like a sodden dog heavily water logged with doubt, fear, thought and belief, want only the freeing sensation of a good shake- sending rivulets in all directions, until I am light again. I miss her. My grandma. I miss the world she represents- warm naps in kind arms, dinners lovingly prepared without thought for what is "healthy", laughter, childhood and an unconditional love that beams from behind spectacles inches thick and bordered by
Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself
"There is no difference between the dream and the waking states except that the dream is short and the waking long. Both are the result of the mind. Our real state, called turiya (fourth), is beyond the waking, dream and sleep states." ---Ramana Maharshi