ASK JULIE, juliefpierce@gmail.com, QUESTIONS?

When I started this Blog, it was with the idea that you might have some questions and I might have some thoughts, opinions, knowledge, stories to share with you in response to your questions.

I used to love how Agatha Christie's Miss Marple solved her mysteries by thinking of a person she knew who was a dead ringer for one of the suspects and then projecting the behavior of the suspect based on the behavior of the person she knew. Whew! Where that is supposed to be going is that I can often think of a story from my experience that might illuminate some question or concern you might be carrying. A pedagogical story, so to speak. It is our humanity that is our common ground.

You can write questions anonymously on the 'comment' section of the Blog or email them to me at juliefpierce@gmail.com.

The Future

Several times in my life I have seen my future. Right now I have no real picture of what is coming. In the past I have had a few very fallow times when it just seemed best to do nothing because everything I tried brought me to a brick wall.

I am not encountering the brick walls at this time. Things are flowing rather beautifully, but I don't know from one day to the next what I am about to do. It is probably always like this, but maybe not so obvious.

There is a bridge in Lucerne, Switzerland with Medieval paintings of The Dance of Death. The paintings depict the plague gripping and killing people of all ages, shapes, and social status. I think the point is that you need to keep looking over your shoulder. Scary.

The Buddhists do a morning meditation called The Death Meditation. It is kind of the opposite of the Dance of Death illustrations. In this meditation you remind yourself that today could be the last day of your life. You remind yourself that life is precious. You remind yourself that you need to clear up all fuzzy or unfinished business and be the best person you possibly can. You set up your day to live the highest standards that you can imagine. Then, you don't need to be looking over your shoulder. Not scary.

I, of course, am totally successful in all my endeavors at attaining perfection. I was remembering the childhood confession I made every week. I didn't commit any 'mortal' sins, I was just a  kid. I did manage a bunch of 'venial' sins. If I hadn't sinned, I made up some to confess thinking it would make God and the priest happy to be able to forgive me. I pretty much still commit those same little sins on a daily basis. I confess that I think judgmental things about other people. I can get impatient. I have been known to take the Lord's name in vain. (swearing, for those non-Catholics) I have had a few little resentments over the years. I can get pissed off. I confess.

The feeling that I am forgiven seems to come when I actively forgive others. It is just one of those things: life's little paradoxes.

I am not looking over my shoulder fearing the next plague and I am not seeing tomorrow with any clarity. So be it.

"IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE - SET THEM FREE"

That is the dear Lama talking again. I showed my four year old grand daughter a picture of the Buddha the other day. Then she picked up Lama Marut's new book, A Spiritual Renegade's guide to the Good Life, and saw his picture. "Who is that?" "Lama Marut".

About a half an hour later, she started telling me a story about a man who walked in the mountains and saw some llamas and asked if they were the Buddha and the llamas ran off and she met Lama Marut and he didn't look like the other llamas and he told her where the Buddha was but she was too tired so she went to sleep in the field with the llamas.

Holy shit! I think I have found my guruji. Isabella.

So, even on the subject of the Buddha or Christ or Mohammed, I think that "If You Love Somebody - Set Them Free". When we find a path, we often put even the holiest of souls right into a stone coffin and then carve in granite our limited, tenth-hand version of whom they might have been. Then we fight wars  to defend our bit of granite. It doesn't sound quite right.

We all want freedom and love and happiness. We probably should give heaping portions of all three to everyone, especially to those closest to our hearts. Isabella and I put dollars in a box to feed hungry children in Oakland, CA today. The teenagers collecting money blessed us for our offering and said it would all come back to us tenfold. Bella said she couldn't eat that much, (tenfold). But she got twenty fold from the smile she was given. She kind of glowed a little brighter  as we walked back to the park.

I think that's about all it takes, folks.

BIRTH

In Waldorf Schools the teachers take the time at faculty meetings to do child studies. The teacher does research into the life of her students and this is shared with the faculty. One of the questions the teacher asks the child's parents is what was the birth of the child like.

I was talking to a neonatal nurse the other day and she said she thinks there has to be some correlation between the birth experience of each child and the ease or lack there of in the life that follows.

I wonder whether the extreme overuse of caesarian sections in so called 'developed' countries somehow changes this measure as a predictor of the rest of a person's life. If, instead of going through the process of coming through the birth canal and emerging into the world, a baby is plucked from the womb, mostly with no warming and often with no rhyme or reason to the timing of the birth, does this somehow change the child's destiny.

Does a caesarian birth, or a birth with suction applied to the head, or a birth with a kind of screw into the baby's scalp, or the old fashioned high forceps, or a ton of drugs, change the destiny of a person? Are the changes caused by these processes the destiny of the person?

If we chose our parents while in the spiritual worlds, then we have to know that all these things are somehow perfect for our lives. So, essentially, they couldn't be any different.

I love this poem by Thomas Traherne about being born. It kind of obviates all the speculative thinking I am doing on this subject and gives a beautiful picture. Enjoy!

Wonder

How like an angel came I down!
How bright are all things here!
When first among his works I did appear
O how their glory me did crown!
The world resembled his eternity,
In which my soul did walk;
And ev'ry thing that I did see
Did with me talk.

The skies in their magnificence,
The lively, lovely air;
Oh how divine, how soft, how sweet, how fair!
The stars did entertain my sense,
And all the works of God, so bright and pure,
So rich and great did seem,
As if they ever must endure
In my esteem.

A native health and innocence
Within my bones did grow,
And while my God did all his glories show,
I felt a vigour in my sense
That was all spirit. I within did flow
With seas of life, like wine;
I nothing in the world did know
But 'twas divine.

Harsh ragged objects were conceal'd,
Oppressions tears and cries,
Sins, griefs, complaints, dissensions, weeping eyes
Were hid, and only things reveal'd
Which heav'nly spirits, and the angels prize.
The state of innocence
And bliss, not trades and poverties,
Did fill my sense.

The streets were pav'd with golden stones,
The boys and girls were mine,
Oh how did all their lovely faces shine!
The sons of men were holy ones,
In joy and beauty they appear'd to me,
And every thing which here I found,
While like an angel I did see,
Adorn'd the ground.

Rich diamond and pearl and gold
In ev'ry place was seen;
Rare splendours, yellow, blue, red, white and green,
Mine eyes did everywhere behold.
Great wonders cloth'd with glory did appear,
Amazement was my bliss,
That and my wealth was ev'ry where:
No joy to this!

Curs'd and devis'd proprieties,
With envy, avarice
And fraud, those fiends that spoil even Paradise,
Flew from the splendour of mine eyes,
And so did hedges, ditches, limits, bounds,
I dream'd not aught of those,
But wander'd over all men's grounds,
And found repose.

Proprieties themselves were mine,
And hedges ornaments;
Walls, boxes, coffers, and their rich contents
Did not divide my joys, but all combine.
Clothes, ribbons, jewels, laces, I esteem'd
My joys by others worn:
For me they all to wear them seem'd
When I was born.

Thomas Traherne

Listening behind words.

One thing I do that annoys the hell out of people is that I turn on my phone when I am in a conversation and start playing solitaire. I often do this when I am most intensely involved in what is being said. I am trying to get what is behind the words that are being said and hear more. Hear the truth. I am breaking myself of this habit because people think I am not paying attention to them. They think I am reading emails or the news and trying to get away from the conversation.

I can let go of this annoying habit and do the same kind of listening when I am looking at the person. Some people read body language. I can do that, but that is not when I get my strongest insights. My strong insights come when I space out on the words and wait until I get a image or hear that still silent voice within.  Often for me this can lead the conversation to a much deeper and more honest place. People want to tell their stories. People want approval. People want to be loved. People want to be heard. People want to be recognized. I know this. But how to do this best...that is a question we need to answer as individuals.

The other day my friend Mark was laying out his dreams to me. He asked me a question and I was kind of meditating on the answer. He knows me very well. He said "Oh, there you go to that quiet place." I didn't even know that I was gone. It turned out that there was a gap of logic in his plans that he was so used to repeating that  he was racing by it. He has a beautiful plan to help a lot of people, but felt he needed to make his fortune first.

I told him that I thought the plan would work better if he first, from his own strained resources and time, started helping those he wanted to. Then, the means to continue would follow. It seems to me that the flow he needs was being blocked by the thought that first he had to take care of his life and then the generosity would come from his extra. It hasn't been working that way for him. The idea came to me that he should reverse the process and see if that worked. Kind of the story of the loaves and the fishes.

Do you have any stories to share on this subject?

At the same time, we often repeat the hurtful stories from our past. We tell our resentments. We

Demons

Emotions are such fickle friends. With all my trying to be a good Buddhist, or a good Christian or a conscious person, equanimity continues to elude me. I can hold my shit together for only so long and then some little demons come and get through.

My friend Joanne used to talk about the leaving the house demons. She would get her family and their stuff all organized for a trip and just as they were walking out the door, someone would spill something on themselves and require a change of clothes. Or someone would fall and cut themselves. Or the car wouldn't start and suddenly everyone was in a bad mood, if not totally freaking out.

Another friend has the "I'm not good enough" demons. No amount of logic can stop her from having these sink holes of lack of confidence every once in a while. She was the person I couldn't stand in college when she always came out of an exam saying she was sure she had flunked and then turning up with an 'A'. Hated that.

Then there are the "I can't cope" demons. If you ever want to go for a bad ride, let these come through the door. All your energy leaves you and you can't cope, thereby giving more power to the little monsters.

Don't forget the "I'll never be able to sleep" ones. Self-evident.

I have the "what if" set backs. I mean, these have unlimited potential for joy kill. Once, in 1969, after my first child was born and I had a lot of time doing not much of anything in Drain, Oregon, I started a little book, which was actually a list. I called it "Live in Fear". It was a "what if" list. You can't imagine the possibilities:

What if the roof leaks in the baby's room?
What if I break my leg and the phone doesn't work?
What if we have no water?
What if I run out of gas?
What if I go blind?
What if this headache is a brain tumor?
What if I fall asleep and forget the baby?

I added to my list daily with a kind of superstitious hope that if I could name all my fears, I could ward them off. It didn't work like that. I kind of freaked myself out and had to give up after many many pages. The book would have been a distinct bummer in any case.

I think these thoughts are all the same. They are very powerful. They can cause anxiety attacks, health problems, and great discomfort.

Victor Frankle in his brilliant book Man's Search for Meaning, offers a way to rid these thoughts of their power. He uses the example of stage fright. He suggests that before you give a speech, if you are stricken, that you picture the absurdly, absolutely worst things that can happen to humiliate yourself during the talk. If you can go all the way in your imagination, your picture of yourself becomes comic and you start to smile. Fear and humor can't share the same space, just as fear and love can't.

Or, I suppose, you can take an Ativan. But that turns out to be a short temporary fix.

Individualism and Happiness

Being in countries where the wealthy do not live in ghettos, where there is not segregation by class or wealth, almost forces us to see that we are all the same. In the USA, it is harder to see this. Middle class people don't go to the slums. Kids grow up not knowing about the underside of our society.

If we strive to promote our individualism or protect our earthly gains with walls or guns, we most certainly create situations where it is easier to think we are better than someone else. Or that we should be treated differently.

When Subcomadante Marcos was a spokesperson for the uprising in Chiapas twenty years ago, he was asked "Who are you?" He replied with a long list. (this is not a quote. But you'll get the drift). I am a peasant in El Salvador. I am a prisoner in San Quentin. I am  the Pope. I am a Jew in Poland in 1939. I am a housewife in Kansas. I am a Wall Street broker on top of my game. On and on he spoke. Ending with "I am you."

We are all in this global soup together. What effects one of us, effects all of us. Think about the simple idea of globalization. We are all the same when it comes to air and water . The Fukisima toxins are completely egalitarian.

We need our neighbors. We need our friends. We need to stop trying to make hay on our individual achievements and realize we are all one. A hand does not work very well without fingers. One of the most 'stand up' individuals living right now, The Dalai Lama, has a different vocabulary from Marcos, but seems to come from the same place. Individualism has made a mess of things. Being a egalitarian person starts the antidote. 

How Could We Do This?

If every student in the USA was sent to another country for a month or so, our whole concept of ourselves would have to change. This could possibly lead to a change in our behavior, don't you think? Maybe if the kids spent one month in Afghanistan, we might have to think about slowing down our bombing and droning there. Or if they spent time in a place like Palestine, we might have to rethink some of our embargoes. If the kids spent one month in a highly developed society, they might see how people can live better than we do using far fewer resources. They might see kids having a lot more responsibility and a lot fewer rights.

Maybe a national gap year could be funded by, oh, maybe, a year without using pesticides and herbicides and any deadly toxins. Or perhaps we could collect all the money usually spent on soft drinks and get the kids passports and send them packing.

Young people in most developed countries have  far more widespread opportunities to see the world than our kids. Here it is pretty much an upper class deal and often highly supervised.

I suspect that the world would see us differently as a nation if they could meet our youth just as young people trying to learn more about life and how things work and who we are in our larger relationships.

It is possible that the young people would make real mistakes...but isn't that the learning process? When my oldest daughter embarked for Europe, alone, and I drove her to the airport, I had some anxiety. She was pretty innocent. She told me not to worry. I was OK with that, but happy I was around to pick up her wallet that she left on the ticket counter as she trotted off through security. Fortunately, she had time to come back and get it. Strangely, at that moment I knew she would be OK. She also figured things out fast. Like when she went from Greece to Turkey by train and got to turkey and was groped and followed and decided to get back on the train and not be a single girl in shorts feeling unsafe in that country. If I had told her it was a bad idea, from my experience, it wouldn't have been her knowledge.

It seems to me that our kids could get very strong lesson in politics from living under different systems and from hearing how we are perceived by other people. Therefore I propose a national get the kids out of here program for kids from all walks of life, from all parts of the USA, from the streets to the mansions. I think it could be a brilliant educational movement.

I believe that the problem in our country about money is not scarcity, it is distribution. If we want to fund something that could change many lives for the better, then we might have to make the difficult choices. We might have to have a few fewer drones, or nuclear weapons, or mercenaries all over the world. It is getting harder and harder to believe that our choices are making us safer and happier and smarter.

WHen Good Things Happen to Bad People

It is actually not so very surprising because all karma isn't from this life and especially not from last year or last month. But, if as I premise, everything has a cause and everything has an effect, then if someone is 'bad' they will never get away with it. To the short sighted (normal) person this might not be obvious. It might look (as it certainly often does) as if the biggest crooks get the biggest rewards. And being selfless or kind or caring gets you no where. I can't believe that this is true.

But what really turns me on is when I experience instant karma. Walking in Seattle on day, I gave a homeless guy a few $. Five minutes later I found $50 on the street. So I went back and gave my good luck guy some more $. No, I didn't find another $50, but it all felt very good.

Today was my last day using a backpack for carrying my shit. I am traveling and have never gotten around to getting a suitcase on wheels. Today my back hurt and my shoulders hurt and I really couldn't manage the pack. I was in Boston, MA, USA. I was on a bus, train, car, and subway. There were crowds of young people around everywhere and not one person offered to help me hoist my pack onto my back. The only person who offered me a seat was another older woman. In Nicaragua, I couldn't carry a small bag of groceries without someone offering to help. In my kinder thoughts I decided that today didn't demonstrate disrespect, but rather it was a show of ignorance.

I grew up in a time when you stood up when an older person walked into the room. I offered my seat a thousand times to older people. But today was a good experience for me. I didn't get any permanent damage from my back pack and I got the message that it is time to change my ways.

I have to figure that whether or not today was a lesson I needed or some old bad karma coming to bite me, it could not be random. Things can't have a cause and be random at the same time. Maybe all karma is good karma if you can take it as a chance to clear up bad karma. Does this make sense?

Seed Bombs

Louis was telling me about guerrilla gardening. All over the world people are planting gardens in empty lots in cities and towns. I like that. When I heard mention of Seed Bombs, I looked up them up. I liked the idea before I knew what they were.

You take a small biodegradable bag and put some compost or natural fertilizer in the bag with some soil and some seeds and a bit of water and tie off the bag. Food seeds are the idea. I like using  something hearty and vitamin filled like red leaf Swiss chard. The whole thing is the size of a soft ball. Then you fling these seed bombs over fences into vacant lots or drop them along walls or sidewalks. Many grow. Many propagate.

These bombs are being tossed all over the world by underground gardeners. Something so simple, something so cheap, something so good for the earth and her people: How could we not go out  and toss a few?

My Down's Syndrome Brother

My brother John has Down's syndrome. He is 62 years old, at least something like that. The other night I had a dream in which I saw John without the Down's Syndrome. He was tall and handsome and had a very strong presence, like a leader, a chief exec. As I awoke, I had no doubt that it was an essential John whom I had seen.

My friend Mamadou from Senegal told me not to dwell on that image. I am not. Mamadou said that John made his choice in this incarnation to come with his handicap and I shouldn't muck about with it because I could change it and cause some trouble in someone's life. Whoa! I kind of get this because of who John is.

Imagine having a family member who is always happy to see each and every person in the family. Imagine always getting a full on smile when you see someone. John carries not grudges. He lives completely in the present moment. He accepts whatever is happening. He was extremely close to our father. He imitated my father's walk and talk. He crossed his legs when my father did. When “Father”, as John called him, died, John had a smile. “Are you OK, John?” I asked. “Yes”, was the reply. “Father is happy in heaven.” 
 
We, of course, were thinking about how much we would miss our Dad. John wasn't thinking of himself at all. I watch this when I am with John and I am inspired. Our teachers come in all shapes and sizes. I can't imagine a world without the beautiful Down's Syndrome kids in it. I think we need them on this planet to show us some spiritual qualities, like living in the moment, total acceptance, joy in everything. 

Thanks, John.

I AIN'T LYING

This Lyme Disease plague is horrible. Here in New Hampshire, USA, it is pretty frightening to go for a walk. Woods, grasses, trees, flower gardens are all overflowing with ticks and the ticks are overwhelmingly bringing this illness. Going out in nature for a walk is dangerous. Patting your dog is dangerous. Planting your garden is dangerous.

Some people say that this is pay back for our treatment of the natural world. Some say that we created this problem with our biological warfare research gone haywire. Everyone I know has been effected by Lyme Disease.

When people wonder what caused the collapse of former empires like the Mayan Empire, they come up with huge theories. Could it be something as simple as a virus spread by a tick the size of the head of a pin?

I have never experienced nature as a danger. I have enjoyed the wildness of hurricanes, I have pictures of us going to church on an Easter Sunday in the fifties, wearing  straw hats with snow from a blizzard piled over our heads on the front walk. I remember the Worcester, MA tornado cutting our city in half. I watched the Indonesian Tsunami on videos. After each natural disaster, we cleaned up and moved on. This ongoing disaster is a plague. You can't clean up.

Hopefully, some Jonas Salk is out there in his/her laboratory discovering a cure or a vaccine. When I was a child polio was our nightmare. In the hottest days of summer, the pools were all closed. Mummy wouldn't let us go in the pond. Even the ocean beaches frightened some. Our parents knew that water was one of the places where you got polio. But, the cause was unknown. Then, viola, we lined up at school and got polio shots and the problem started to be eliminated.

Many of my friends are against vaccines. Many of the vaccines are probably perilous, but it feels good to me that polio has been eradicated from the planet and the same for smallpox. We are on the brink of a crippling epidemic and I wish I could find the cure. Nothing is impossible.

Missing You....

I haven't been lost entirely, but once again, couldn't get the old computer to post my last few blogs. One day soon I will figure it out and post a clump.

Because a lot of my friends are younger than I am, they are still in the big squeeze. Very old parents, children and grandchildren create the squeeze. No one seems to live near enough to their relatives. There don't seem to be any smooth situations for many of the old folks. As soon as a situation is arranged that seems to work out, something shifts and you have to start all over. For the most part, getting really old is not a pretty picture. Having money often doesn't even help.

Last night I saw The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. This movie showed exactly the characters I met in Granada Nicaragua last winter. I met people from US, Canada, and Europe who suddenly lost their pension, ran out of money, lost their husband or wife, needed medical tourism, wanted a huge change...whatever, just like in the movie. But we were still able to jump ship and move toward the unknown. The old folks problem is that with very old age or dementia or severe health problems, people have few choices. And most of the choices suck. And many of them don't work. And we have to impose them on our relatives in their best interest.

From where I stand, right this second, if I wander out in a snowstorm naked, let me go. If I stop eating, let me starve. If I have the big heart attack, let me die wherever I am.  If I am very sick, very demented, very miserable, don't try and help me. And believe me when I say that if I am in any situation where walking out in the snow is even a remote possibility, I will already have to be demented.

Yes, I have made a living will, and a DNR, but those documents don't seem to solve the last old years. I have friends who moved their parents to assisted living places, having sold the house and gotten rid of most everything, and then the parents refused to eat in the dining room, or were kicked out of the dining room. Others fire the help on a regular basis. Others moan about wanting to die while scarfing down vitamins and medicine. I understand it all.  There has to be a reason and we have to be learning something. I think this because I am a reasonable person. I like reason. But just as it is hard to watch a child suffer, it is really hard to watch a helpless parent suffer.

I live in a state where we have doctor assisted suicide and medical marijuana. You'd think things would be easier. They are not. Just making a life decision for a parent is a weird reversal. It is all walking in the unknown and doing the best we can. Just like parenting.

Phythagoras, in Another Life

Not I. My friend BT had a reading from a clairvoyant in which it was described that she and I were together in the school of Pythagoras . He was a philosopher and a mathematician about 500 BC. When I look at BT, I see this link. She has spent her life with the maths, sciences, music. She is very accomplished. She reads physics books for fun. She has a profound interest in philosophy.

I think the 'reader' threw me in because she knew I was BT's friend. Might as well make the whole deal better. I have none of these accomplishments. None.

But something in this picture resonates. BT and I were like those married couples who saw each other across the room and knew they were going to be together. Although our life paths were polar opposites we were great friends right from the start. we were intellectual friends as well as partners in crime. Over the years we lost each other and found each other. Then something started to happen in me. I started to get  (maybe remember) math and physics. I have no basis for my understanding, things just started to become clear. I like math because it is dependable. I like physics because it is reliable. Very nice to know that every time you drop a stone it goes toward the earth. Very satisfying.

Talking to my room mate after our reunion, she spoke about how surprised she was at the wonderful reception we got. She had thought of herself as not very cool and a bit immature. I thought of myself as slightly handicapped in math and science. Both ideas of self carried on for many years. I don't know that it is a bad thing. It is just what happened.

I have met people who thought they were unattractive as kids and years later see old pictures and realize that they were lovely. Weird stuff-- self image.

About the clairvoyant - I think it more likely that I was involved in the School of Alexandria a few centuries later. Whenever I read about the intellectual activity there, I get a little flurry of excitement. All this might not matter a wit, or it could be of the most significance. With so many billions of people on this planet, why do we run into the ones we do? Each and every encounter must be of paramount significance. It has to be. The smile we give to a "stranger" on the street has to have meaning. If not, then no encounter has meaning. It is either none of it random or all of it random.

Physics Lesson

We got it! Kay and Susan and I opted to attend the Behind the Music: An Introduction to the Physics of Sound demonstration class at our 50th re-union weekend. And the teaching was so creative, so compelling, so clear that we 'got it'. We pretty much agree that it was due to the teacher and not to an increase in our native intelligence. But listening to the accomplishments of the women at the reunion it became clear that we have been a force in the world.

Kay made the observation that our aging hadn't changed any of us, just had made us more who we are. I have to agree. My fabulous history teacher, Dr. Schuyler made a fine tribute to me. He said that he "knew I was trouble when I walked into his classroom 52 years ago and there was absolutely no evidence to convince him otherwise." He said it was the bushy hair that tipped him off.
 I think it was Susan's song and my story that jogged his memory after all these years.

Kay, Susan and I had many activities that were against the rules, but I was pretty much the only one who ever got caught. On one trip to the formal and formidable Miss Johnston's  office, I was afraid. I thought I had been caught for some big deal like smoking, but it turned out that we had written some notes on our sheets after lights out with the faulty theory that if we slept on the answers they would penetrate our consciousness. The theory didn't really work and I was called to the carpet for damaging the sheets.


So, Miss Johnston, Head Mistress, stared me down. I hung my head in shame. And she said. "Julie, two men looked through the bars and one saw mud and the other saw stars. Julie, you have potential to see stars." Long deep stare. Heavy eyebrows. Kay and Susan listening outside the office door. I was so relieved. No expulsion this time. I gathered my courage and looked into her eyes. We stood up. She reached out to shake my hand. I said, "Yes, yes, I think I get your drift." She missed the sarcasm in my voice because her camel-like second eye lids   had already covered her eyes and her mind had moved on to her next problem.

Having a ton of rules made it very easy to be mischievous without being bad.

'Bucket List'

For those of you from different countries, reading this in different languages, who may not have seen the Jack Nicholson movie, we Americans of the English speaking persuasion have an expression:"to kick the bucket" which means to drop dead. So, a 'Bucket List' is the stuff you want to do before you drop dead. In the movie, the guys knew how long they had to live. Some of us don't know this yet.

My 'theory' at the moment is to get through my list as fast as I can. This doesn't mean that I think I am going to die soon. I am just in the mood for seizing the day. Carpe Diem. But the deal with me is that when I was stuck between the bookends of life, had commitments, responsibilities, and such I had loads of thoughts about what I would do if I had the time, the freedom, the where-with-all.

I wanted to walk the Camino, I want to go to Bolivia and go to the place where Che Guevarra was killed. I want to go to Darmasala, India when the Dalai Lama is in residence. So, I went to Nicaragua and now I am planning to go to Thailand. What's up with that?

I think what I am truly excited by is meeting more people. Hanging out with new and old friends, hearing what people are thinking about and caring about, mixing it up a bit. But it has to be more than that. I could do that at the local gas station, or store. I want to challenge myself, push boundaries, get comfortable in the unknown, feel the energies in different places, expand. So, I suppose I have to bungee jump and see the Grand Canyon and have a torrid affair. Dios mio! this is starting to sound like work.

I HAVE ENOUGH

I have enough. I have enough. I have enough. I have enough. I have enough. I have enough.

If I can get that through my brain, through my body, through the twisted gate of my feelings, then I am at peace. At least I suppose that is how things would work. I am pretty good about not wanting much in the material world. I am pretty good at counting my blessings. I am pretty good at seeing the best in people. But then, the rain gets me. If it were only sunny, everything would be perfect. And the kids. If they were all radiantly happy, I would be great. If I could find a just society I would have more hope. If we weren't killing people with drones in ??? number of countries, I could maybe like the president enough to vote for him.

So, my arrogant self-satisfaction about not 'wanting' is pretty much mostly bull shit. What is 'wanting' is inner peace. It feels good to want to end hunger and suffering. But not when I can't figure out what my active role can be in that endeavor. Then I am just expressing discontent with the world and demonstrating that I don't have enough.

One thing I know is that being a misery doesn't help alleviate misery in others. Therefore my complaints about the endless rain and cold are hurting the people I love. And if I strive to have love and compassion for all sentient beings, well, oops.

In the world of karma, everything has a cause and everything has an effect . Therefore, I have created the causes to be in this country at this time when my president orders assassinations and it makes me mad. I have to examine this. Mediate on this. I have to see my karmic causes for this and create the antidote for it, otherwise it will continue to take away my peace and I will continue to feel frustrated that I can't change things.

So, my start point is going to be to repeat this mantra "I have enough" until I live it better and meditate on why I was born into this society at this time. And pray for sunshine. (I didn't say that).

Where is the Sun?

Last summer when I was falling apart my friend and teacher, Lisa Schumacher, told me that I was looking at everything the wrong way.  I was sobbing, feeling that I couldn't cope with what my heart was feeling and pretty much couldn't put one foot in front of the other. She said that the question I should be asking my heart was how much love could I accept.

When she said those words, I felt from her heart the wildest surge of love coming into me. Then it expanded and it kind of hasn't stopped. It feels as though everywhere I go, I have to accept more and more love. This past weekend, at the wedding of a young friend, I felt as if my heart was bursting from love. WOW.





The strange thing is that it feels the same as a broken heart, only not. This is heard to express. I feel so full that I am about to burst.

There was a day in Cuba many years ago, when I felt so happy that I thought I would explode. I knew I had a new measure of 'great'. I have met that standard a few times since. I have never lost the ability to revisit that moment. If this full heart keeps accepting more love coming my way, I certainly have to raise the bar.

There is no rhyme or reason to this love thing. I have gotten the vibe from strangers, from animals and most certainly from the sun. Once in a while I just get the feeling that the sun is pouring life into the core of my being. I get connected in some primal way. I could see myself building a great temple to thank the sun.

I am working on the little switch thing that Lisa's words flicked on. I am working diligently on this.

Birth under Guru Marajii's picture

Long long ago and far far away in a time when dreams were real (That's how I started all the stories I told my children), I was working for Carol Leonard, a New Hampshire midwife. Birth is always an individual experience, almost always full of surprises, and because that and because of Carole's dynamic personality, there was never a dull moment in our work.

One day we got called to come to a birth`at a Guru Maraji center in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire. Carol was very reluctant because the woman had not been a client for prenatals and this was one of those possible traps. If things went south during the birth, we were all at risk, especially the mother. Somehow, the mom convinced Carol that if we didn't come, they would do the birth with no attendant (true). In any case we found ourselves barreling up the highway to be at the birth.

When we arrived in the night, we were told to remove our shoes, whisper, bring peace with us. We were looking around, as always, to see if there was food, a place for us to sleep,  place to have the car if we had to transport to a hospital. None of the above. The mother was on a mattress in the middle of a meeting hall and there was a balcony with people praying and incense burning, and a huge picture of Guru Maraji dominating the entire hall. There was an altar at the foot of the picture with flowers and fruit offerings piled up.

The mom was a southerner, with a heavy southern drawl. The labor was well underway. She was flopped back on the pillows when we arrived, saying in a little girl voice, "Poor little old me. My my. I just don't know if I can do this. Oh honey, rub my feet." Little pants. Slight fanning of her face. Quiet whispers.

Then a contraction would come. She switched to a roaring voice, sweat like a horse delivering a foal (you could see the steam rising off her body), nearly broke our hands gripping them,  caught Carol's arm in a deadly vice grip when Carol was attempting an internal exam. Roaring. The the contraction would end a "poor little ole me" would be back. We never had a chance to take off our jackets, let alone our shoes. This baby was coming.

She had a few more cycles of the weak southern bell and the roaring lion and ended with a grand finale delivering a beautiful baby with a scream that probably could be heard in Vermont. A perfect calm came as soon as the baby came. We congratulated her on an amazing job well done and she, honest to God, looked at us like we were crazy, and said she hadn't done anything HE, and here we all turn to the picture of the guru and bow, HE!!! HE!! DID IT.

Who knows? I had a cynical moment wondering whether she meant it was HIS baby, but then felt the love and realized she had had a kind of transcendent birth. I guess it could have been much harder without HIS help.

Does saying "I'm Sorry" Really Help?

Yes and no. Sure, it is a start. But what happens next? We inwardly should vow that "I won't do it again." And we should never do it again. But we have already created the karma from whatever it is that we are sorry about. Oi!

So we have to create the karma so that we won't repeat whatever it was. I am getting pretty abstract here. I'll try to bring it down to earth.

If, as is obvious to any thinking person, our economic practices are hurting other people and hurting the planet, and causing great distress ubiquitously, how can we do things with our money that make us good stewards of our money and contribute to the welfare of us all? It is so hard not to be blind or deceived or hopeful or even optimistic that a good investment is a good investment. Think about the Apple story. It has taken all these years for the truth to emerge about the suicides of workers in China because of Apple practices. And where do the materials and minerals come from that make these nifty gadgets? And how do those minerals get out of the ground? Many of us allowed ourselves to be glamored by the products and the advertisements into thinking it was a great company. It may be a great company, the iphone has certainly made my life easier, but now I have this karma, sitting on my shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Doesn't feel like enough. I try to think of healthy practices, that make money for everyone, that improve the air and earth. My idea for today comes because I live in Oregon. In Oregon you can not help but see the deforestation process every time you look anywhere. My idea for investment is to take some $ out of funds that support monsters like Monsanto and buy or lease some land and plant trees. In thirty years, timber will be even more rare and valuable. If a lot of people did this year after year, we would have some sustainable woodlots and some guaranteed $ down the road.
I am sure that there is some down side to this idea, that some reader will awaken me with. But for today, I am trying to think it through. Any ideas?

You Have to be a Little Crazy

Well, really, you have to be completely nuts, to take a righteous stand in today's world. You have to risk everything to follow the truth. Why is it that we call assassins "heroes", and put peacemakers in jail? Being against killing, being against poverty, being against exploitation is a crime. Being for human rights, being for an end to violence, being for a sane ecological future is criminal.

The elephant in the room when discussing US History is that we have not changed from our attitudes about slavery, from our Indian Holocaust, from our Manifest Destiny. We have just taken our very consistent actions further afield. Except now we US citizens have openly become victims of US foreign policy. (example: drone surveillance inside our boarders) and many get arrested or beaten up if they want to expose or change this.

Watching the Iraq and Afghanistan vets throw away their metals was very encouraging to me. The veterans who go through the torment and inner awakening that changes them from warriors to peacemakers is one of the most profound spiritual events of our time. It is a difficult act to recognize that you were wrong or criminal in your action, admit it publicly, try to make amends, change the course of your life. These people are heroes to me. They have pulled from deep within themselves their truth.

I think that Bradley Manning is a hero. He helped expose a devastatingly corrupt foreign policy that is daily hurting countless people all over the globe. I suppose that most people haven't read many of the Wikileaks. Even random pages are worth perusing.

I don't think that we Americans have easy lives. It seems to me that the amount of anxiety, discontent, addictions, depression and so on that we suffer has to be connected to our collective karma. So the people who find community, find transformation, find, hope, share love and food and funny stories are my heroes. It doesn't matter to me whether your redemption is in Iraq Vets for Peace, or AA, or a CSA, or a local church, or in Darmasala with the Dalai Lama. I admire it all. It is the business of our times and it can't help but change the planet for the better.