Sitting. Dogs don’t get meditation. Cats, they get meditation, dogs, not so much. This morning I was on my cushion, trying to pay attention when I felt a small dog nose poke me in the back, right between my shoulderblades. So Owen poked at me a little, then went to examine the incense smoke for a moment, then tried to curl up on my crossed legs, but there wasn’t really enough room on the cushion, and he kept sliding off. Eventually, he got bored and went away. Ah, I thought. He’s learning. And tried to bring my attention back to…
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Because we can’t get delivery here in Montana, I get the Sunday New York Times a week late. It usually comes on Thursday or Friday and I save it so I have a Times to read on Sunday morning. This is what two years of one’s youth spent in Manhattan will get you — a lifetime addiction to a big fat Sunday paper. So Sunday I was reading the Style section and there, in the Weddings, was my cousin George on his father’s vintage motorcycle with Jen, who is now his wife. It’s a really cute picture and I tossed…
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Saturdays are hard. Eight Saturdays ago, Patrick didn’t show up to walk dogs … I called and couldn’t get him at his house, which was odd, but odder still was that I couldn’t get him on his cell. He always answered his cell. When I’d left him at the Bar and Grill, he’d been chatting with a woman, so I thought who knows? maybe he got lucky? Last thing he needs is his panicky sister tracking him down. But I was annoyed. After waiting until well after nine, which is weekend dog-walking time, I loaded the dogs in the car…
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LA was wonderful. My friends Matt and Paige were the perfect, loving hosts: Paige treating my head cold with copious amounts of essential oils, Matt the same old Matt I’ve loved since we lived down the hall from one another our first year at Beloit College. We hung out with the dogs, read some scripts (Matt’s a movie producer), had dinner with other Beloit friends, and mostly just relaxed. On Saturday afternoon, we went downtown to Aroma, a spa in Koreatown, where I was scrubbed with a thoroughness that I probably haven’t experienced since I was a very small child.…
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Winter is really here — another four inches of snow this morning, temps in the twenties since last week. I wasn’t really quite ready for this, particularly not ready for freezing dog park mornings. Patrick used to do the morning dog walk, and of the many many things I miss, having him take them on the frozen morning walk while I got to hang out in my PJs and make breakfast is one of them. I’m off to LA for the weekend to see an old old friend from college. It’ll be good to take a break. I’m hoping to…
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We got our first snow — just a light dusting of tiny snow-pellets. My wholly unreliable thermometer (that’s what you get when you only spend 3 bucks) reads 20 degrees this morning, and I think this is certainly the end for the late-season cosmos, the asters, although I have a hunch that the unstoppable chard out in the veggie garden will somehow survive even this. I love my little house in winter. It’s so cozy and warm. My only heat source is this freestanding gas heater in the living room. I am very fond of this heater — it goes…
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I’ve been sitting again. One of the many reasons to sit is to try to wade one’s way to the far side of the grove of trees where live the chattering monkeys that inhabit our minds, all those monkey-voices chittering at us, particularly in times of great stress and grief. I’ve been turning the Three Refuges over in my noisy head like river stones. I take refuge in the Buddha. I take refuge in the Dharma. I take refuge in the Sangha (see below). Twenty minutes a morning, on my little pillow, the Buddha, a Virgin of Guadalupe candle, a…
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When I was thinking about moving here, almost two years ago, I called my cousin Elizabeth for advice. This house, the one I bought, was on the market and they’d dropped the price into the range I was looking for. Problem was, it was April, and I couldn’t afford to move until our lease was up in August. I couldn’t afford house payments and my half of the rent. Now, Elizabeth was a realtor for many years, which is one reason I called her, but she also practices Jin Shin Jyitsu, and has become, over the years, a pretty spiritually…
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It’s been a tough week — closing Patrick’s bank accounts and opening the “estate” account was really difficult. The bank lady had opened his accounts just a few months ago and had been one of his first boosters for his new business — and she came to the funeral which I didn’t remember until I was sitting in that chair with my death certificate and power-of-attorney. It wasn’t good. It was like his friend Jon Newcomber, the big fireman who drove two days from California with five other guys who worked Patrick’s fire crews when he ran Sears Point raceway.…
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Today was a good day. Today was sunny, clear, warm. Today I pulled dead plants out of the front garden and put in the yellow rose bush that Yena sent over. It’s right off the front porch where Patrick and I drank coffee in the mornings, had gin-and-tonics in the evening. The tag says it will bloom continuously, which will be nice — he loved yellow roses. I also pruned back the perennials in the back, including the mondarda that grew a wonderful four feet tall this summer and planted the iris transplants that Andrea left on my front porch…