I know it is Monday when you are reading this, but, you see, I have this strange compulsion to chronicle. There are words, visions, not so much voices, that are clattering around in my brain after a week of constant movement and bombardment by the universe. To quiet them, I must sit and paint the pictures in my mind. It brings such peace.
Everyone is fed, even me as I snack on a wonderful home-made chicken pot pie from my neighboring shop – The Social Grove. Earlier this week I spied Marie’s pot pies but they were huge and I can only do leftovers once. I’ve matured to the once factor in the past year. The mail was fun. I tore open two missives from FORD Motor Company. One congratulating me on my payoff of the truck, the other an unexpected check for overpayments. Did I mention I LOVE corporate America’s efficiency!! Happy days are here again…
About the car, Indy as Hanni so aptly named it. It is just that, an it. People keep asking me, “Oh don’t you love your new car??!” No, love isn’t something I will ever attach to a vehicle again. Learned that lesson a few blogs ago. It is efficient, tidy and a way to get to where I need to be safely and inexpensively. I suspect we will be together for a long time.
My goal this Friday night was to come into my cocoon and wrap myself in the sounds, the smells, the light of my home, with as little corruption or chaos caused by my presence as possible. I just wanted to relax and pour out the snapshots of the day and the week. Take one last look, then read and renew.
Laura and I went out on a photo shoot this morning. I will tell you about Monson in a future missive. For now I will say I am disappointed in my results – 78 out of 80 shots probably won’t see the light of blog post. But I shot and I looked and I walked and listened. It sharpened my senses and like a good kayak trip, it slowed the pace.
So now to the reading part of my day. I wanted to share this. I have my beloved recent issue of The SUN. Last night I flipped to a section I have never gone to first. I usually go straight to the Readers Write section. The Dog-Eared Page featured an essay by Chogyam Trungpa. Right? Where have I been? In case like me, you’ve lived under a flat rock (sometimes on other continents), he is credited with bringing Buddhism to the West. He died in 1987. The Genuine Heart of Sadness intrigued me enough to read it several times from several angles.
“The genuine heart of sadness comes from feeling that your nonexistent heart is full. You would like to spill your heart’s bloom, give your heart to others…This experience of sad and tender heart is what gives birth to fearlessness. Conventionally, being fearless means that you are not afraid or that, if someone hits, you will hit him back. However, we are not talking about that street-fighter level of fearlessness. Real fearlessness is the product of tenderness. It comes from letting the world tickle your heart. You are willing to open up, without resistance or shyness, and face the world.”
It is not religion or politics, it is basic human goodness. Sometimes it takes a quiet Friday night to discover it in yourself, before you can see it in others. Surround yourself with beauty.