The Path of the Squirrels

The squirrels have worn a path in the snow. When i catch them eating sunflower seeds, i open the door to the deck. They gobble a few more seeds. When i open the storm door, they scramble down a post, and hightail it to safety.

Where do we head to for safety?

Every morning i take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. I seek sanctuary with my community of Dharma friends. I look for wisdom in the Dharma--the teachings of the Buddha. My intention is to take the high road and wake up to what i am doing, wake up to the effects of my actions.

I sit still, and the squirrel makes a run for it.

Canning Tomatoes

 I thought i was done with canning. No more canning tomatoes. But during these COVID months, what else do i have to do except grow tomatoes and can them?

My sweetie was told that tomatoes flare his eczema, so i limited my tomato plants to 2 sungolds. Then a friend gave me 2 Roma plants, so, of course, i planted them. As i mentioned a couple of days ago, 50 green tomatoes are slowly turning orange and losing their garden-fresh taste, so i made tomato sauce. I pour the tomato juice off the sauce because (1) i don't like watery tomato sauce and (2) i use the tomato juice (tomato broth is more apt) in making winter soups or Spanish rice.

The boiling water bath does take time to heat up. All that work for 4½ pints of tomato sauce.  And the tomato sauce is just for me.

That's what some people say about meditation: All that work, and it's just for you. Isn't that navel-gazing selfish?

Finding peace of mind ripples out to our family and friends. Practicing kindness establishes a habit of kindness, and the world--our neighbors, our community--need a lot of kindness right now.

Be a light for your world. Feed yourself some peace in meditation, and see what happens.

Fall Gardens

I celebrated the first day of fall by going on a local garden tour--a fundraiser for a little K-6 alternative school. What i saw were some of the most beautiful gardens in my town (population 2,000).

Just when it seemed like the gardening season was drawing to a close, i saw loads of blooming flowers.

So it is with aging. Just when it seems like an 80-something should be closing up shop, they're still vibrantly contributing to their local community.

A young relative once asked me, "What do you do anyway, now that you're retired?" Ha! There are lots of blooming flowers in this old gal yet.

No Slouching

Amaranthus lying down and gossiping with Veronica.

Due to the recent heavy rains, many flowers in the garden are lying down on the job. Two stalks of hollyhocks are lying flat on the ground while 5 sister stalks remain upright.

One line of the Loving-Kindness Sutta says,
Let them be able and upright.

We want to sit upright in our meditation--whether that's in a chair or on a cushion. No slouching.

We want to act in an upright manner in all our dealings with other people. We want to be honest and just. We want to be in accord with what is right. We aspire to be an upstanding citizen in our community--no low or crooked behavior.

Even when the storms of life conspire to beat us down, we do our best to remain upright.

Borrowed Landscape

I’m visiting my brother in Indiana. Behind his backyard is a pasture with four riding horses, one pony, and one donkey. Watching the animals is a never-ending entertainment. Although my brother fantasizes about having a mini-farm here in the suburbs, I advise him to feel content with the borrowed landscape of his backyard—all the joy and none of the labor of that heavily padded man who is pushing a wheelbarrow of manure from one barn to another in this sub-zero weather.

We don’t actually need to own everything ourselves. There’s a lot to be said for living in community where you can freely borrow from your neighbors. My stepdaughter borrows her neighbor's dog, who spends more time across the street at her house than the dog spends in its own home.

Sharing--whatever we may have--dogs, food, landscape, or garden produce is a form of generosity. The neighboring riding stable shares their pastures and the animals without even trying. We are all interconnected.

My Vase Collection

I've started forcing hyacinths.

All year, i've been collecting narrow-necked vases at the thrift store and at the swap program at the landfill where everything is free! I love this re-using business. I take my junk to the swap program and walk away with treasures--vases and flowerpots, mostly. I have a large collection of each. I've even posted a sign in my shed, in case i die tomorrow, Take Everything in Here to the Swap Program at the Landfill. The cleaner-uppers might be tempted to throw it all into a dumpster, but i have flower friends who would love to have my collection of forcing vases. Maybe i should post Michelle's name and phone number next to the forcing vases.

Our collections disband. In the case of vases and flowerpots, it's easy to recognize their temporariness. In the case of friends and community, we think they are permanent until we realize that it's just too hard to maintain our home, and it's time to move to a condo or apartment. Good-bye dear neighbors, dear community. It turned out you, too, were a temporary collection of friends.

Staking Up a Tall Amaryllis

My first amaryllis is blooming on a 3-foot tall stalk. I'm staking it up with a green bamboo stake from the garden and green twisty-ties.

Sometimes we need a little staking up in our meditation practice. Maybe we're the only meditator we know--alone by ourselves in a room. A sangha, a community of meditating friends, supports us in our practice.

Last Saturday, Vera came over, and we watched a day-long retreat with Shinzen Young via streaming on the computer. Vera said if she'd done it on her own, she would have sat for 10 minutes before she got distracted by something around the house. Ditto for me.

Vera came over and we meditated for several hours. We staked up each other's intention to meditate. Just the fact of the other person's presence staked us down on the cushion.

At the end, Vera and i were both smiling.

It Takes a Village to...

Frost tonight, so i'm finally bringing in the flowerpots from the front step. Hefting the heavy ones is a chore that requires ingenuity. I need to use a dolly.

I was thinking about buying a dolly, but then i sent an email to my 10 neighbors and Voila! Several dollies already live in my neighborhood. Rather than clutter up my garage with one more piece of seldom-used equipment, i can borrow a dolly for half an hour. I won't need it again until next May.

I value Voluntary Simplicity--keeping life simple and uncluttered. But my self-reliant do-it-yourself-er is often at odds with my own values of community. In this case, i tell myself, "It takes a village to ... move my flowerpots."

Photo from scrapmetalforum.com