Speaking of Foxes

Yesterday morning the turkeys walked across our snow-covered lawn. This morning, a fox.

Seconds before, our deck had been full of squirrels scavenging for sunflower seeds. They disappeared. I walked into the kitchen just in time to shout "Fox!" to Bill at the kitchen table.

The fox was in no hurry, so i fumbled with my smartphone-camera and snapped a couple of photos before the fox disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

If we are foxy in our meditation, we can catch those dagnabbit distractions before they lead us into completely forgetting our meditation object.

One possibility is to open the lens of awareness wide. The squirrels who disappeared had wide-open awareness, which told them to skedaddle because danger was afoot.

With wide-open awareness, we can catch the distraction before it catches us. Otherwise, our mind goes trotting off into the woods.

Letting Go of the Garden

By 2 in the afternoon, long shadows cover most of the flowerbeds. The sun rides low in the southern sky, heating my passive solar house to toasty, but the sun only peeks at the gardens for an hour or two before they're shaded by the surrounding woods.

It feels like being near a loved one who doesn't have many days left to live. Life still shines, then they sleep long hours. They waken again and perhaps describe the travels they have dreamed that are so real. They have a foot in both worlds.

All we can do is watch and stroke their hair and hold their hand. Perhaps give them a sip of water. The end is coming. When exactly? We don't know.

I wander around my gardens looking for something to do. I rake a few leaves. I pat a few plants into earth. And wait, as the shade deepens.