Watercourse Way

The melting snow shows the flow of water through my lawn--something that is normally invisible to me.

The leach field on the north side of the lawn melted. Unusually, i can see the path of the pipe leading from the septic tank to the leach field.

The snow on the septic tank melted first. This snowmelt is usually one of the first signs of spring, but i know that, in December, Mother Nature is just teasing me.

Another waterway is the footing drain from the house, which feeds into my small fishpond and then drains off into a swale, leading, 200 feet downhill, to a seasonal and unnamed stream.

These two waterways are tangent to each other--so close, yet asymptotic, not touching.

How often, in our lives, do we almost, but not quite, touch another person? We chatter on about our lives. They yammer on about theirs. Are we touched? By their joy? By their pain? By their delight?

Too often, our comparing mind compares my experience to theirs and judges it accordingly. Two streams flowing in different directions. Yet we will all meet at the river of Life.

Fish Under Ice

My fishpond freezes during the night and thaws on a sunny day. The goldfish are still swimming underneath the ice, though i'm not sure "swim" is the proper word. They move through the water. They are not hibernating, but they are logy. They are cold-blooded creatures in chilly water.

You know that cold reduces inflammation and swelling. Cold also increases metabolism, improves sleep, and improves your immune response. Some of my friends are practicing cold therapy--taking cold showers or other cold exposure. I'm walking around the house without slippers and even going barefoot outdoors for a few seconds at a time.

There most likely will come a time in our old, old age when cold overtakes us. Can i greet the big chill as an old, cold friend?

The goldfish will be in a torporous state until April when it's time to sow alyssum seeds (yesterday's post :).

Meditating Frogs

Today 8 frogs are sitting on lily pads in my little fishpond. Suddenly, i have a bumper crop of green frogs.

Frogs remind us to be alert. They sit in meditation almost all day long--except when they take a brief swim.

I wonder if i could sit in meditation most of the day. Walking meditation, sitting at the computer meditation, sitting and watching the frogs meditation.

American Toads Mating

image copyright Michael F. Benard
More reptile and amphibian information here.

American toads, which have been singing their beautiful mating song this past week, were mating in my tiny fish pond today. The smaller male rides piggyback on the larger female, their shiny gold eyelids glittering in the sunlight.

One couple seemed content to linger in one place at the edge of the pond. I watched their nostrils--just at waterline--breathing.

The female of the other couple was in constant motion. Was she trying to get rid of the male? Or searching frantically to find a place to lay her eggs? She hopped out of the flowers and plopped into the pond. She swam to one side, then the other. She dove down to the bottom for a few seconds; she explored the waterline, underneath the overhanging rock edge. She was not content. Up. Down. Here. There.

At times, we ourselves are in constant motion, searching for something--we know not what. Comfort, perhaps. Pleasantness. Ease.

Dukkha wants something different than what we have. Contentment is a state of wishlessness--not wanting anything, other than what is. Floating in the little fishpond of life.

Fishpond Gunk

Usually my sweetie rakes the leaves off the bottom of our tiny fishpond--four feet wide and three feet deep. But this year, i got there before him, so i've been using a very small bamboo rake to lift decomposing gunk off the bottom. Just think of years of leaves and goldfish poop plus the stringy green algae that clings to the sides of the pond.  When i disturb it, bubbles of methane float up through the water. Oooh. It's stinky down there.

Sitting silently at the bottom of our mental basement is the accumulated gunk of decades. Little ouches and big hurts, resentments and unfairnesses, thoughtless words and behaviors that happened so long ago.

One of my recent meditation challenges was to make a list of all the people i have ever known. Oooh. I found several pieces of gunk that i had nearly forgotten.

The next step was to forgive myself and practice loving-kindness toward each one of those gunky relationships.

After i "rake" the fishpond, the water is muddy for a couple of hours. Then it clears. And it's clearer and cleaner than ever.

Big Fish in a Small Pond

Last November, my little fishpond had 19 goldfish who were all 6 years old and about 4 inches long. This spring, one remained. I found no dead bodies, which leads me to suspect the great blue heron fished them out last fall when i wasn't looking.

Two weeks ago, i bought a dozen 19-cent goldfish, one inch long, at the pet store. The frogs ate them for dinner. Last week, i went to a bigger pet store, which had 35-cent goldfish, almost 2 inches long. I bought 2 dozen.

The remaining large goldfish hides under a rock. I suspect she is depressed, having spent 6 months in solitude. But now, a week after the teenage goldfish arrived, she is swimming about, leading the school of smaller fish. I suspect the big fish in my small pond is blind because she can smell the fish food, but she can't see it.

We too are blind to the "waters" we swim in. Cosmic consciousness is all around us and through us, but we can't see it or feel it because we're so caught up in the details of life.

Relax. And stay alert. Rest in life.

The Garden at Dawn

When i come to consciousness, around 5:30 a.m., it takes some intention to open my eyes, move my body, and stretch. I don't really need more sleep.

The thought that rolls my body out of bed is The garden! Now in the cool of the morning, i can feed the birds, feed the fish, drink a cup of tea, meander around the garden, and meditate. By 8:30, it's hot, and it's too late to garden. By mid-morning, it's time to sit in the shade, wearing sunglasses, and allow the day to run according to its own schedule.

But now, just after dawn, all is quiet, a few birds still sing, and the world is beautiful.

Broken Snail Shells

My itsy-bitsy fishpond (4 feet wide and 3 feet deep), like all fishponds, gets mucky when the water warms up in the summer. Several years ago, i bought a "pond cleaner package" from a pond supply company, consisting of snails and some pond vegetation.  The vegetation didn't live long, but my little pond has hundreds of snails. And now that the weather is warming up, the pond is growing that long green algae "hair" along the sides. So much for the snails cleaning things up.

The raccoons, however, are cleaning up on the snails. Perhaps i should say "escargot." Every morning when i feed the fish, i see 4 or 5 broken snail shells without their occupants.

The snails' shells are non-descript black with algae growing on them. The broken shells are iridescent and fascinating. Those snails live in beautiful homes, i must say.

We can live in a beautiful mind. We already know what the gunky mind feels like and sounds like. The beautiful mind is kind and compassionate. The beautiful mind is patient and generous.

Let's live there, even if we are in difficult circumstances.

Vole-Hunter in Disguise

A couple of weeks ago, i complained about a great blue heron fishing in my little fishpond. Bill often saw the heron farther down the lawn, near the stone wall. In reading about blue herons, i discovered they mostly eat fish and frogs, but they also eat voles! My vole-hunter has arrived! And i didn't recognize her.

You may recall that voles decimated my vegetable garden, eating almost all my broccoli, cabbage, and bean plants. All gone. Gone. I haven't figured out what to do about the voles. Should i give up vegetable gardening? That sounds blasphemous.

Sometimes we get what we ask for. A vole-hunter. But it looks different than we expected. A great blue heron.

The herons have flown south for the winter, so the voles are safe. For now.

Blue Heron is Still Fishing

When i pulled up the shades in the kitchen this morning, a blue heron flew away from the fishpond. That must mean that fish still live there.

Our bad habits "go fishing" for us. They want us to bite the "hook" of craving. It's time to clean up our act.

My fishpond is about to be cleaned out of fish.

Great Blue Heron at the Fishpond

A great blue heron has been spending a lot of time at our little fishpond. Herons have a reputation for eating all the fish in fishponds, but so far we have some goldfish remaining. The frog population seems to have been decimated though.

Death comes to those we love. This is the way of nature.

When i raise the window shades at six in the morning, the movement scares the heron away. It goes to roost at the top of the weeping cherry for a couple of hours. It is a much more patient creature than i am.

When i look out the window at dusk, the heron flies away. Oh, it is persistent.

Patience and persistence are two of the qualities we need in meditation. We wait without "waiting." We effort without efforting.

The heron flies away.

Hearing Meditation

I meditated outdoors on the deck this morning at 3:30 a.m. The temperature was lovely with a small breeze blowing. The first fireflies were lighting up the dark. A single wood thrush sang in the neighbor's woods.  A handful of crickets chirped among the flowers. A frog trilled near the fishpond where the fish were splashing about. Or was that a raccoon trying to rustle up some breakfast?

The mind wanted to know: What is it? But happiness resides in don't-know mind.

Hearing meditation. Simply hearing. Hearing.

Air Space

Our little fishpond has a circulating pump that we turn on every day in order to create an airhole in the ice. Otherwise, the water becomes anerobic. The fish need their oxygen too!

Every couple of months the little pump, which is slightly larger than a printer cartridge, gets jammed up with algae, even in the winter. The fish may be hibernating (well, not "true" hibernation), but the algae is not. Algae is growing even when ice covers the pond, and thus algae requires oxygen too.

Cheryl at a swimming pool in Greece in October.

There are a lot of demands on the "air" space in that little fishpond--fish need oxygen, frogs buried in the mud need some oxygen, algae need oxygen, and all the decaying leaves and fish poop use oxygen.

I know, all too well, what happens when ice covers the pond, and there's no airhole. Pee-yew! Everything is dead.

The breath may not be that interesting to us as a meditation object, but if we didn't have oxygen, we'd suddenly find the breath very interesting. Stop. Watch your breath. Look around you at the people who are sharing your air space. Look out the window and notice trees that are sharing your air space.

We all need oxygen--even the algae.

Feeding the Goldfish

The little fishpond in my patio garden is 4 feet wide. Since it is 3 feet deep, the fish live there all year long. The resident goldfish are Comets, which are reddish-orange, perhaps mixed with white, and Shibunkins, which are a calico mixture of black, white, and reddish-orange.

I stop feeding the goldfish when the water temperature goes below 45 degrees, usually in mid-October. At that temperature, the fish become quite logy. They look like they are on slow automatic-pilot, unable to dart about, even for food.

December has been unusually warm, and the water in the fishpond is 50 degrees, so i've fed the fish this week, but not every day because i don't want to over-stress their metabolism. Too much food will kill them. The directions say "as much as they will eat in 5 minutes," which isn't that much in cool weather.

Too much of a good thing also stresses us. When we see, feel, hear, smell, or eat something good, our automatic response is "More!" But more is not necessarily better. "More" is craving in disguise.

We are in the season of too much food and too much shopping. Slow down. Eat mindfully and shop mindfully.

Let's think more thoughts of peace, goodwill, and joy and fill up on those :)