Waking up

grabbing a few crackers

   I notice, they are yellow,

      doves are cooing and the coffee smells good

Journal entry, March 29

     I grab a handful of crackers and my cup of coffee and something strikes me as being different from just about every other morning that I do the same thing, and I realize, it IS different, really different. It is this morning, not any other morning. I see this as clear as day. It is not an assumption and nothing I could say now could convey what a resounding realization such a seemingly obvious thing can be. And if that wasn’t enough, I realize it is not only what I see, hear or smell that is different, I am different, at least I certainly feel different, and that is very different from most mornings when I pretty much feel the same.

     I slept well last night. I slept long. I dreamt and

things happened in my psyche. I am well rested. It was an unusual morning in that it was already light when I got out of bed. I think back to the moments of awakening. While I was not quite awake I was nobody in particular. I could have been anybody but then I became me as I put on some clothes. The tape started to run and I heard the stories, the needs, wants, fears, and scenarios of whom I am suppose to be. Yesterday’s voice drowned out the stranger’s joy of waking, of hearing birdsongs, of feeling rested, safe, and healthy.

     The moment lingers and it has not yet become all a story. I am carrying that moment like a found treasure, like a smooth black rock I once found on the ocean’s shore. Meanwhile, it has turned into a quite beautiful day. The colors are vibrant and the sunshine is so deliciously warm on my skin. 

Dead Ants

Once there was a man hauling firewood. He was loading his cart for the journey and even though the cart was getting very full and the wood was very heavy, he kept saying to himself, “One more piece.” Finally the cart collapsed, its axle snapped and the cart was ruined. His child, still very young, said, “Dad, how about taking out that last piece you put in there?”

So many dead ants

here,where yesterday

I put poison

Roadside Trash

This is something I wrote a number of years ago but other than that is as current for me as ever. This is my first posting on my first venture into the world of Blogs. I thank you for visiting.

“Everything I encounter is my life.”

Roadside Trash: dedicated to Kosho Uchiyama

Picking up trash as we take walks has become something Suzanne and I do. The other day as we walked along Airport Rd., picking up Bud Light cans, pieces of smashed lawn chairs, and fast food wrappers, it struck me very forcefully how this small act fully empowered me to change the world.

For most of my life, I would walk past the garbage of the world, maybe shake my head, and pass judgment on “those people”. Perhaps I would hesitate, but would usually decide that it wasn’t ‘my’ trash, and would continue on my way. I can’t say that I felt any better for this decision and it was a long time before I rebelled against my habit-energy and began to pick the trash up. What happened? I guess as time went by my affinity, or awareness of my affinity, with the ground I walked upon grew stronger, and my practice helped me let go of the need to pass judgment on “those people.” Also a combination of events, including a near-death experience brought home the lesson that life is too short and precious to be a prisoner of who I use to be or think I should be.

Now when I walk along I feel free to take responsibility and ownership of my world. It is my world! My earth! And, my trash! And I do something about my world that I believe to be of benefit.

Of course there’s this demon in me that rears up and ridicules me. It says, “ What difference do you make? And what of all the horrible pollution, wars, so on and so forth?” Well, what I realized the other day was that all the pollution, hatred, and greed in the world is cumulative. When six billion people are hateful, the world is hateful, and when six billion people are kind and loving, the world will be a kind and loving place. And it happens one by one; you and me- we are it. Just as all this trash was put here bit-by-bit, we can pick it up bit by bit, and honestly, even if I get to the end of the road only to start over again, it’s OK. Maybe a couple of people will see me and decide to stop throwing trash out of their cars. Maybe someone else will decide to carry a bag with them on their next walk. That would be wonderful, but if not, it is still OK. I will still walk along taking care of my world, picking up my trash, and in general doing the best I can, perhaps becoming a bit larger or more mature. If not, that’s OK.