There’s more than one reason for not posting anything since the election. But it’s curious to me that October’s image of a retreatant sitting quietly looking at the hills now looks like a memorial for a bygone time.

This new photo is from Old Town Fitness, a gym I have belonged to in Key West and also fondly remember.   Yesterday I agreed with a friend to work on the weight gain that seems to reflect the distress our minds have both been feeling, causing the body to call for emergency fat storage.

Conscientious care of body and de-escalation of the internal impacts on my mind seem critical to face all that’s going on these days.

For example, yesterday I was inside a hospital (for a minor diagnostic test) and I noticed feeling afraid that I may not be able to afford such care in the future.  Not that I’ve taken health care access for granted, believe me.  Still, I’m a privileged, well-to-do, aging white person and I’m now able to know what many others have suffered for years.

In general most of the votes and decisions and processes taking place at the highest levels are terrifying.   Marching for the climate in DC was sweet and encouraging, a sign of shared resolve.  Yet it also felt, eerily, as if one was listening, and not just because our thin-skinned Earless Feeder had skipped town.  Russia has succeeded in the equivalent of a 21st century invasion.  The likelihood of war feels imminent and even if we manage to avoid that, the loathsome creep of climate ruin is a sufficient disaster.

It’s been a test of meditation practice and I can report that the energy of unbiased awareness is a huge support.   To admit the painful feelings allow me not to feel as if I’ve run aground.  It hurts, but then a little clarity arises and my mind can see that this toxic detour is happening one step at a time.   It can also be reversed one step at a time.  But the steps need to be taken, and need to be taken soon enough .

At dawn I slip into the ancient shrine;
The early sun has lit the sacred grove.
Bamboos; a path to a secluded glen
Where amid woods and flowers the Zen monks live.

The birds by nature love the mountain light;
The pool’s reflections purge the hearts of men.
Ten thousand noises here are silenced quite,
But for the sound of bell and clear chimestone.

Just back from Sikkim — it’s been less than a week and I’m still re-orienting to what’s called ‘my life’ on this side of the world.   Teachers, monks, and fellow pilgrims at Deorali Chorten were super-gracious to me as a woman stranger.  It was intriguing to exchange thoughts with practitioners trained so differently from us in the West.   The monks cared for my well being; and Rajesh, my guest house host, is a sparkle of light — taking life lightly when it should be and seriously when it must be.   This photo was from an outing day when I felt super-happy and in such a simple way, hanging out with friends and being playful and silly, at ease.  Look how sweet these faces are!   Other times I was too frikin lonely with almost no other visitors in the entire state during monsoon.  Here’s the road up to Chorten Gompa monastery.   What really happened?   Meditation practice is usually impossible for oneself to measure.  But sometimes inner changes feel like monsoon rain.

(This isn’t ‘my baby’ … it’s just the video’s title.)

I’ve been in awe of walking lately, and in the joy of it this late spring.  Flowers and gardens of Somerville and Cambridge, people out and about, running or walking wearing lighter clothing. There’s a depth and texture of experience — and interaction — thousands of times greater than from inside a car, or even a bike (ecstatic too, in a different way).   Walking, the pace lets the environment come alive.   Yesterday, for example, on my way to Cambridge Insight, a driver in a blue car stopped to let me go ahead on a crosswalk.  He was clearly in a great mood, playing a cumbia, windows open.  We did the ‘you go, no you go’ dance for a while and finally — he won.  His happy smile was a gift that I can still see in mind a day later.

There are very many ‘baby’s first step’ videos online.  I liked how the dad in the video is tender and encouraging, clearly used to spending time with his daughter.   Emily Shih, apparently the mom and camera woman, posted this clip in 2006.  This little girl surely doesn’t remember the thrills and spills of this momentous event in her life (other than from seeing herself starring in this video?).

For about a year now my left knee has been hurting, making me realize it’s an ability not to take for granted.  For now, taking more walks seems to be helping — knock on wood — along with anti-inflammatory supplements, leg lifts and foot crunches.

Apparently ‘walking’ began with some of our ancestors’ arboreal maneuvers (you can sort of see the arboreal quality in the bounciness of the girl in this video) along twigs and shaky branches, holding with our hands and shuffling with our feet.  Modern-looking footprints were found in Kenya, 1.5 million years old, left by a group of hominids who were walking along a river shore, together.

Yesterday, my Facebook friend Urgyen Tenpa reported his heart skipped a beat watching his daughter (10 months old…?)  suddenly go erect and bipedal, running toward the Buddhist altar in their desert home.   And I remember when I knew my dad wasn’t going to get up again.