Inertia set in after my last post, I almost forgot that I have a blog or website at all.   A new friend who checked out my online presence said my most recent remark here and it was that I haven’t been able to write anything since the Orange Haired Villain was elected.  That was more than a year ago.  It is not true that I’ve been paralyzed, but I became less public as one of three coordinators to lead the Spirit Rock Teacher Training.  It feels like we are turning a wheel that will turn other wheels, which is very gratifying, and this also requires a certain amount of force.  Thus in order to focus, I have been turning down nearly all public meditation teaching invitations through 2018 in order to focus more on helping the wonderful 20 people in the Spirit Rock training program to become the best next generation of retreat teachers and Dharma leaders they can be.   They’re amazingly diverse, I’m enjoying and learning so much from them, particularly as the only white, straight human in the room.   Concomitantly I’m doing more meditation practice and finishing my book.  Changing the pattern of my life has occasionally felt sad or scary, turning down chances to work with teacher friends and see retreatants I care about.  But I need to trust why I framed out a period of intense, somewhat more private creativity.

Yesterday I was talking about this with my friend Gina Sharpe, who’s been laid up with a badly broken ankle and ‘stranded’ in San Francisco for several weeks.  She’s discovering, she said, resting and receiving the love and care of friends and family.  Gina quoted a wise, flawed, old Western monk who said:  “Be an earthworm.”  I liked that.  David, my husband once surprised me by letting me know that the giant Amazon earthworm is one of the most sacred beings for Yekuana people.  I remember saving a worm who was drowning in a puddle of water on a sidewalk, near Harvard University’s biolabs.  I sensed its relief when it found itself on dry land and could breathe again.  Secret aerators, benefactors. It’s hard to find a beautiful image of an earthworm, I suppose they thrive on not having one.

Here are a few images of earthworms from National Geographic.  Above a lovely drawing, below the quantum dots generated in earthworms as they comfortably digested cadmium telluride, generating the luminous dots that discern cancer, etc.  And a link to the National Geo article at bottom where I found the images and the interesting discovery.

http://phenomena.nationalgeographic.com/2012/12/24/the-quantum-earthworm/

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.