Settling in at the temple and combining doing some chores with more meditation in the mix. The temple has a cat that is a quiet cat. I, however, am a talker and I talk to the cat quite a bit. A great listener she is, but she is staring to talk quite a bit too. I’ll have to ramp it down a bit so that when the monk returns he won’t have a chatty cat to deal with.

I got some distressing news from the little town  where Linda and I lived and entered into that beautiful little community, to the degree that one can truly enter a small farming town; made many good friends and had the happiest ten years of our lives together. One of the kids I watched grow up from the 3rd grade (I was P/T janitor at the Elementary school) sadly took his own life a few days ago. My heart goes out to the mother and her many friends and family and especially to the young man. The mystery of our modern culture, teenagers killing themselves. Because…..?

I can dredge up no words or thoughts that explain or point to resolution in terms of how we are as a society or culture, except to say that all this suffering is part of a larger spiritual problem and, sadly, our way of life does not really encourage the spiritual view.

It doesn’t comport with the things we hold too dear. All of it just stuff and appearance.

A death like this can cause us to individually re-examine what we believe.

That’s a good thing.

The only one, ever, in a situation so deeply sad.
                                              When I am gone,

                                      And the house seems empty,

                             Do not thou, O plum tree by the eaves,

                                            The Spring forget.

I’m staying at our temple for about 2 and 1/2 weeks while our monk is in England for a monastic conference. I’m here to just keep up the daily activities of the temple; it’s a good opportunity to do a bit of spiritual belt-tightening. Meditating three times a day and all the various ceremonies is a good way spend a couple of weeks.

Things are just beginning to settle down for me in relation to the grieving and letting go of some of goofy ideas and expectations that pushed and pulled me for a while.

Growing up is hard to do, especially when your in your latter mid-sixties.

A lot of hoping and yearning that I’ve lugged around is loosening its grip on me and I seem to be less needy; less caught up in the notion that I’m missing a part. I may be approaching a working contentment that doesn’t depend on outside circumstances, or the continuation of my lifelong habit of telling my story, about me, to myself; endlessly.

So far

So good. 

Time for meditation.

To be still

Have been dealing with a lot of annoying smallish health concerns. The nice part of all that sort of thing is it keeps to the fore the primacy of being aware of self relating to self. Of self letting go, incrementally, of the self and then letting the vigil lapse and having to let go all over again. Only, the next time it’s different. The subtle teaching of repetitive awareness intertwined with persistent fog horns coming from, somewhere.

Life is good. Next month I spend a couple of weeks living at temple again while our monk is traveling. I plan to fashion it into a retreat in preparation for a jaunt up to the inland Northwest. To visit Dharma friends and renew deep-heart acquaintance with neighbors and fellow travelers  and possibly lay groundwork for future return to the area.

Here’s a view that came up for me a few weeks weeks ago:

It is a simple wooden gate tethered to

Two fence posts that anchor a plain

Split-rail fence that runs to the left and the

Right of me; as far as I can see. To the very

Curvature of the Earth, and then I see the 

Meadow I’m standing in, also stretches to

The horizon, although in every direction. And,

I wonder, for a moment; why the fence? Why the

Gate? Then I shrug and step through. The meadow

Rolls on and on under my feet. Who built the gate? The fence?

Is the purpose simply for the stepping through?

What’s good for me to Know? What’s good for me to Do?

Today my wife Linda would have been 67.

There is an empty place in my heart and life;

There are others too.

A past that can’t be changed

A present that can’t be wished different and,

A future that excludes certain hopes.

This is life. This is death. This is real.

There is 

No Thing

Going wrong.

Just, going On.

Happy Birthday Toots!

I was gone awhile. Incommunicado. Out of touch.

A fog of which I was unaware, because I was in it, lifted.

The fog existed because I harbor ideas of finding out how’s and why’s and the reasons for things. I want resolving, resolution (Like the Beatles great song “Resolution”.), I want closure (what a dreadful word). Things tied up in an acceptable package. Which, as it turns out, once again; is very different from accepting things as they are.

So, there I was.

What to do?

Nothing. Wait. Things unfold.

That I can be aware of the unfolding and learn from it is another matter.

So far I see several things.

I’m mistaken at times and I assume that those mistakes are the best response that the situation calls for and that my response was the best I could do. The problem lies in my clearly seeing what the best response was.

If I don’t see that clearly then the best I can do is usually off, at least a little.

All of that comes back full circle to a point where I never saw the situation clearly.

So, life is quite simple and subtle all at the same time.

The simpler I keep it the

Less subtle it has to be.