Banana Ketchup

 

When we were in St. Lucia, in the Caribbean, a few years ago, i bought a bottle of banana ketchup. I like to try local food. 

However, doubt is my worthy opponent--What would banana ketchup taste like? It took me a year or two to actually open the bottle. I don't use ketchup that often.

Delicious! Banana ketchup tastes great!

But now my banana ketchup is gone. Gone. 

And if i pay attention, i notice that doubt is also gone.

Light Shining Through My Arborvitae

The deer are nibbling my arborvitae, as i suspected they would. I've seen rows of tall arborvitae shaped like popsicles with a long bare stick at the bottom, up to the height of a deer nose. Mine is looking rather threadbare at the bottom and is surrounded by deer tracks in the snow.

Its neighbors are surviving because they are still bedecked with Christmas lights. I suppose a string of lights doesn't taste as good as the fresh green of arborvitae.

No matter how threadbare we feel, after life has nibbled on us here and there, we can let our heart light shine.

I'm going to put some strings of lights on this arborvitae to see if that will save it from popsicle fate.

 

Hot Beach in Snow Country

Now that it's February, my passive solar house has beach weather every sunny day. All that glass on the south side of my house turns my kitchen and living room into an oven. It's 85 degrees indoors. 

Stretch out on a beach towel on the floor and just bake. Oh, does that feel good on a 16-degree day with 10 inches of snow on the ground. 

When i feel too hot, i can jump in a snow bank. Wow! That's how i know i'm alive! Sensation-a-rama. Sensations-Plus.

We think we have a body, and yes, of course, we have to act as if we do have a body. But looking closely, there's just a batch of sensations arising and passing. Hot. Cold. Sharp. Dull. Pleasant. Unpleasant. Vibrating. Pulsing. Tingling.

Those sensations don't belong to "me" (whoever that might be).

Just sensations arising and passing

Baby, It's Cold Out There

The rhododendrons are talking to us. Baby, it's cold out here. With temperatures in the single digits, i agree.

The rhododendrons have folded up their leaves for warmth. We can find inner warmth in our heart. 

By opening our heart, we feel warmly toward people, pets, and places. And, as ever, what the world needs now is love, sweet love. It's the only thing that so little of is expressed.

Start with gratitude and feel whether a little spark, a little ember glows somewhere in the body--maybe around the heart, maybe in the hands or the belly.

Experiment with spreading that warmth throughout the body. Feel the sensations in the body and keep your attention there.

Eventually, the sun will warm the rhododendrons. Meanwhile, I'm sending warmth to you, dear reader.

 

Curating Your Garden

 

A new word has entered my gardening vocabulary: Curated. I have a curated garden. Expensive gardeners are now called curators of the gardens they attend to. The word "curate" means to select, organize, and look after the items in a collection. Curate also implies that my plants are swish; they are cool; they are "in." 

My plants don't know or care whether they are "in" or not. They are simply happy to grow, unless conditions are not right.

It's true that i aim for an aesthetically pleasing garden--blues and yellows together, silvers and pinks. At the same time, i realize the impermanence of my entire undertaking. Twenty years from now, very little of "my" garden will remain. My collections will scatter and be overgrown and replaced by something or someone else.

Every curated collection is impermanent.

And so are we.

Companion Planting

 

The polka dot plants that i brought indoors in October brought some hitchhikers with them--impatiens seeds.

Outdoors, i had planted the polka dots next to impatiens on the north side of the house, since they both love the shade. After the frost touched the impatiens, i pulled them out and discovered a couple more polka dots growing underneath them. Now the next generation of impatiens is growing with their neighbors, the polka dots.

We rely on "companion planting" with our spiritual friends to steady and sustain our meditation practice. We depend on our spiritual companions to keep us on the high road, especially when that low road looks so easy and so tempting. 

We rely on our spiritual friends to bloom. That way we all look good.

Polka Dots

In October, i dug up my polka dot plants (Hypoestes) and brought them indoors. Usually, the polka dots go to seed and die.

This year, i cut back the seed stalks. Voila! Lovely little polka dots to tickle my eyes for the rest of winter.

Before you go to seed, what is one thing your heart of hearts desires?

My 85-year-old sweetie is having heart palpitations. "Well, this is your chance," i tell him. "You always wanted to live long and die fast. This could be your way out."

"Oh, no," he says. "I'm not ready. I have to play the piano concert i've been preparing for the nursing home."

Music is his heart of hearts. Writing and meditation are mine. What's yours?