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Sacred Rest

Mar13

I did another ancestral puzzle last week, Bookstalls on the Seine, from 1931. Almost a hundred years have faded the subtle shades of green and the ecru background, and dozens of fingers have rubbed the wood soft and left their stain.

There’s no picture on the cover of the tattered box. I tried to start with the edges but found the bridge railing easiest to decipher, and then the buildings with their perspective, the windows’ sizes and shading. Mixed in there a few of the people came together.

There was a poignant contrast between the gentlefolk on the street, and the huddled figure on the step. Though assembling the puzzle was a rest of sorts, my mind certainly buzzed the whole time with comparisons of the world and humanity between a century ago and now.

Despite only having 325 pieces (not a one lost in a century!) it took about five days to complete, partly because it was so hard and partly because it wasn’t as compelling as a colorful Liberty puzzle. But it offered its own unique muted pleasure which suited my mood.

I’d forgotten the 5 Calls app for awhile, relying on other sources to decide what to say to my reps when I call, and I’d dropped calls down to about once a week to each of them after finding myself unable to leave a civil message. But I started using 5 Calls again, and really it makes it so easy, and by setting a mindful intention to stay calm and stick generally to the given script, I’ve kept my temper in check and added to the congressional tally of discontented voters on numerous issues through the days.

On Tuesday I met with my Grateful Gathering group to discuss the importance of sacred rest. From time to time throughout the day, or once a day or once a week, a secular Sabbath or a spiritual one; or a longer rest, a residential retreat, a backpacking trip. How restorative it is to make time to unplug, step outside the usual routine of a busy life, step back in time to pre-super computer in your pocket days, not even a hundred years ago, for me just twenty. It was inspiring. I realized it had been too long since I’d walked to the canyon, between the mud, snow, wind, work, the distraction of pain and absorption in obligations and external events.

So I did that on Wednesday. I walked slowly, picked my way along the trail pausing many times, looking around, breathing, inhaling the still peace of the forest. I recalled my relationship with the trees, the ease with which I walked here thirty years ago, a big dog at my side or far ahead. Some years two dogs or three, two or three cats as well, and no phone in my pocket. A complete rest, of sorts, absorption in the forest.

During this time burdened by worldly ills and evils, on a day that I felt I’m not doing enough, I came to the edge of this canyon and I recalled, I’ve saved this land from subdivision, this forest from being recklessly cut, cleared for fields or harvested for firewood or artful tabletops or lamp stands… I saved this land because of its inherent right to exist as it is, a living system just like me, only bigger, and infinitely more complex. An organism in itself and a host to multitudes. A small wild patch in an ever-diminishing patchwork of wild land. Neighbors perpetually cutting trees, shooting wild animals for trophy or food or sport or nuisance. I did something good, and I reminded myself that I try to do good every day. And that’s enough.

After the morning’s sacred rest walking the woods I felt reconnected enough with my true nature to make the drive to town a pleasure, and to delight in a visit with my doctor. Leaving, I saw a dear friend in the waiting room, she and I the only people masked in the whole building. I don’t know if I was more surprised to see her, or to see a little dog follow another woman in and automatically take his place under her seat. The drive home through the gorgeous spring afternoon felt light, and back in the yarden I sat with my little dog who exhausted herself with her frenzied greeting and then lay down to rest in the warm grass.

The Market Square

Jan28

My generous cousin sent me a couple of ancestral jigsaw puzzles for my birthday. I love these puzzles for several reasons. This is the fourth I’ve gotten to do: The Market Square. I love the evocation of simpler times, the craft of being cut with an actual jigsaw by an individual, the way they don’t completely lock together like modern puzzles but segments slide apart at the slightest touch. They require a most delicate approach. I love that there’s no picture, just the title, so the image grows from mystery to completion. I love my great grandmother’s handwriting on the lid, and the note that one piece is missing. I love that at nearly 100 years old the pieces remain mostly in great shape.

I love that they’re small enough to do on just part of my desk so I can do a few pieces at a time on a short work break without rearranging my workspace for days at a time. I love the muted colors, the cuts that delineate color blocks adding difficulty, the illusion of bringing order to my mind as I fit the pieces. I love giving myself this little gift a few times a day as a way of surrendering to who I am: imperfect, aspiring, basically a good person despite the habitual afflictive thoughts and emotions that arise continually, despite the practice.

This is the second puzzle I’ve done this season knowing a piece is missing and not knowing which piece. It requires a looser approach and more comfort with uncertainty. It’s a good analogy for my own growth. Something’s missing, I don’t quite know what, I just trust the process and keep putting pieces together to eventually get a pretty complete picture.

I’m grateful today for the kindness of two people in this little community, one who helped soothe my struggling body and one who helped comfort my challenged mind; both provided the spaciousness to let go of a little suffering. May we all do the same for one another.

The Maui Puzzle

Jan11

A friend loaned me her Maui puzzle over New Year’s. It’s extra large, gloriously vibrant, and layered with whimsy and meaning.

There’s often a natural starting place with these Liberty puzzles that calls to me, in this case the octopus.

After the first few obvious segments were assembled the puzzle revealed its unique strategy which was to complete the sea first, the sky and volcano next, and then fill in the town in between. It took almost a week to do, and provided joy through some otherwise bleak days.

The little swimmers in the top left revealed themselves only when that section came together. The whale grew in one part of the sea based on similar colors, but found her home on the opposite side of the puzzle.
The several sea turtles brought back mixed memories of my one trip to Hawaii decades ago. The highlight for me was swimming close to a sea turtle on our last day.
Throughout the puzzle were moments of pure delight like this one.
It was like three puzzles within a puzzle.

A little part of me died hearing about the murder of Renee Nicole Good. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, encountering the wrong person, a scared and angry veteran ICE agent. Before we knew as much as we know now, Dan Rather’s account summed up the horror clearly the next day. Since then we’ve all seen variations on the truth of who she was and what occurred, and perhaps just as many variations on the lies the regime concocted instantly to obfuscate guilt: their own, and the murderer’s. We can cleave to the truth, amplify it, hold her and her beloveds in compassion in our hearts. A GoFundMe for her family has raised more than 1.5 million dollars and appears to have paused donations. There are many other ways we can support them and honor her memory, and the memory of Keith Porter killed by ICE on New Year’s Eve, the two Portland victims of an ICE attack on January 8, and the many more lives lost and disappeared by the bully regime’s illegal enforcement arm.

It pleased me to recognize the Hawaii state bird, the néné, once critically endangered but brought back from a low of 30 birds in the 1950s to several thousand now. This goose has the smallest range of any goose species. We did not see néné on that trip.
Though we didn’t visit Maui, it was poignant to recognize as it emerged in the puzzle the Lahaina banyan tree that famously survived the historic wildfire that decimated the town two years ago. What a shock that was! Who ever thought that could happen there?

Part of our species’ problem is the “can’t-happen-here” delusion. I’ve never understood how people can say, in this day and age, “I never thought it could happen here.” School shooting? “I never thought it could happen here!” Vehicle assault on a parade? Domestic terror attack at CDC? Vengeance assassination at a newspaper office? Even a natural disaster out of place or out of season due to climate collapse, like Hurricane Helene’s devastation in the Appalachians; or the freak wildfires that demolished Lahaina and other towns on Maui. Anything can happen at any time, and more worse things can happen in more unlikely communities now than ever before, due to human cultural conditions and climate influences.

Then there was the moment of mythical recognition when I realized that all the weird swirly pieces near the top created the portrait of the volcano goddess Pele. And of course there was a lei or a floral crown around the peak.

There was a suspected (and unlikely) fatal mountain lion attack in northern Colorado last week. Honey Badger asked if I knew the chances of being killed by a mountain lion (which is minute) and our conversation flowed from there naturally to the chances of being killed by an ICE agent. This is currently relatively small but growing. As many people have been shot dead by ICE in the past eleven days in the US as have been fatally attacked by a mountain lion in Colorado in the past 26 years. I’m grateful that I live where my chances of being assaulted by a mountain lion may be slightly higher than my chances of being attacked by an ICE agent. I feared for my city friends this weekend who took to the streets in masses in Indivisible’s ICE Out for Good protests. I honor their courage to assert their First Amendment rights!

The scrumptious colors throughout the puzzle carried a batik vibe.

Little parts of me die daily, beyond the cells and neurons. Little parts of my soul. I think this happens with most people who feel empathy deeply, or who care about the natural world, or who trust in our government; and in people who are ill or care for ill or dying beloveds; or who suffer the atrocities of war torn areas they cannot leave, climate catastrophes that force them to flee, and so many of the tragedies that over population, power concentration, resource extraction, and other horrors born of human greed, hatred and delusion just keep on ramping up.

Working the middle section from the beach upward and the tree downward, the giant Maui puzzle came together. Another delightful surprise was finally fitting the first of four odd pointed pieces into place to reveal that the two beach walking figures were holding surfboards. Duh!

But little parts of me are reborn each day also. The beauty, kindness, and courage I see in people around the world every day flickers to life the same qualities in me. The awe of nature that surrounds me renews my spirit and freshens my cells. The wisdom of teachers and elders stabilizes my perspective. While working on a new puzzle this weekend, I listened to a podcast from the Plum Village monk Brother Phap Huu, The Way Out Is In. In the current episode ‘Calm in the Storm,’ he says that the practice of generating joy every day is foundational work. He goes on to discuss skillful introspection, and the infinite variety of ways that we can cultivate joy, from our own hobbies to appreciating the joy of others.

For me, it’s Liberty puzzles while listening to dharma talks, or starting a bake with a clean kitchen, or teaching, or and always taking pictures… And more than ever, being present for friends and students who want or need to talk, and listening deeply, genuinely caring about the lives of others. And this caring brings with it the weight of their unique sufferings, and the cycle continues. Hold what I can hold, generate joy through the practice of gratefulness, do what I can do in any given moment with the wisdom available at the time. Let me remember to be grateful every living moment of every day.

Just What We Need

Jan4

I was grateful this morning to see this flock of evening grosbeaks in the birch tree. A friend was distressed the other day because there aren’t as many birds as usual at her feeders. She thought maybe it was because of the sharp-shinned hawk that she’s seen hanging around. “I doubt it,” I told her, “I haven’t had as many birds the past couple of weeks either. I think maybe they’ve just moved on for winter, finally.” Despite the fact that this weather barely qualifies as winter, I thought. But then yesterday morning when Wren burst outside first thing, I saw a sharp-shinned hawk fly off the rose bush where the sparrows roost. And this afternoon, I saw it again… So maybe this is a good year for sharp-shinneds, and maybe not so great for songbirds.

Whatever. Inside, in my own little world, wildlife abounds in the Liberty puzzles this season. This ‘Cutout of Animals’ was more fun and harder than I thought it would be, and great for mindfulness practice. As usual these days I don’t use the box top for help: I look at it once and set it aside. There was a lot of detail in this that I missed in my glance, and my assumptions were challenged every which way. At first I put all the whimsey pieces right side up as I assembled them, and put most of them facing each other.

I had made a point to note the general order of the species stack but no more detail than that. The more pieces I fitted into place, the wider apart the camels got until they ended up in the corners facing opposite of how I’d set them. For the elephants, it was another twist: as I assembled them I failed to notice until they were all together that the images were upside down.

I noticed immediately that the entire puzzle was an imperfect mirror image in both the artwork and the whimsey pieces, and shortly afterward that there were two of every piece except for a stack that would tie down the middle, and a few surrounding the one-each human male and female whimsies.

So this puzzle invited itself to be built from the center outward, from the bottom upward, and from the corners inward.

The anchor at the bottom center was, logically, man’s best friend. (Though the image reminded me of an awful AI interpretation when I asked it a few years ago to make a picture of a dog licking a girl’s face) It made perfect sense to me that dogs would hold up the whole world, and delighted me that the artist had tucked the squirrels in between them.

An added layer of whimsy was revealed with the surprising discovery that the squirrel pieces fit into the dogs’ bodies; just one of the many layers of whimsical delights in this puzzle. Strategy also included matching speckles all around.

And one final twist was that I knew in advance that a piece was missing. A second piece in the bottom edge had been damaged beyond use prior to the puzzle’s arrival from the Florida branch of our puzzle club lending library, so I ceremoniously threw that one in the woodstove. But the missing piece… I had no idea which one that was. This actually loosened my attachment to finding and placing specific pieces, and kept me working on multiple sections and moving on more quickly rather than hunting, hunting, for the next piece in any one segment. So, you know, more like most people do puzzles. It was kind of liberating, but nothing I’m likely to get used to.

Doing this animal puzzle over Christmas was fun and relaxing. The wheels of justice were slowly grinding nationally in a hopeful direction with the Epstein files revelations and the unconstitutional National Guard mobilizations decision, when I started the New Years puzzle. My health seemed to be gradually improving. Despite the freaky climate signs, I was feeling pretty calm. I called my representatives on Friday to give them another piece of my mind about the illegal assaults on Venezuelan boats and the dock attack. Action is the antidote to anxiety.

But then I woke up yesterday. Not only to news of an unconstitutional war on Venezuela, exactly the concern I had expressed to congressman Un-Hurd and my beleaguered senators the day before. But to find a frog wide awake sitting on top of the pond. Which is unheard of in deep winter here. Absolutely apocalyptic.

With the (one, long ago) snow completely melted in the garden I ventured in to see more shocking evidence: carrot tops emerging, snapdragons that never died back, a bed of tiny lettuces, and a cluster of blooming violas. This is April weather.

So, just what we need. Another oil war. War does nobody any good except for the oil barons. Think of all the profits they make on the fuel for the machines of war alone! And now, they’ll get even greater profits as they steal all the oil from under Venezuela. Not only will many humans in Venezuela and in the US suffer from this illegal war, any war exerts devastating effects on the natural world, on all living beings in its path. And any further extraction and use of fossil fuels violates every law of climate science and common sense. With the evidence of staggering climate collapse all around us, the charlatans who run this government exemplify the three poisons of greed, hatred, and delusion in their pursuit of reckless, lawless distraction from the noose of dawning sanity slowly closing in on them.

I’m grateful to have sane, compassionate, smart, and wise people in my life to tether me to the basic goodness supposed to exist at the core of each of us. (That exploration is ongoing.) One of those is Ted Leach, who posts a short daily insight which always includes interesting source links, like the interview with Venezuelan journalist Quico Toro I link to above about charlatans; and these two articles by Toro offering an inside perspective, one from December 12 in which he essentially predicts this attack but misses the motivation, and another from yesterday in which he evaluates the likely outcome. Thanks, Ted!

Oh well. One silver lining to climate chaos is that it revealed my missing garden knife before it totally disintegrated under the snow. And you see, that all about me perspective is why we’re in this shitstorm in the first place. There’s not much I can do about other people’s poisons, but I can dedicate myself to the practice of trying to root out my own greed, hatred and delusion, gradually replacing them with loving kindness, compassion, and wisdom, so that the ripples my life makes in this big pond are more beneficial than harmful to all beings.

Laughter

Jan2
It’s Puzzle Season in a big way. Stay tuned for two puzzle posts coming soon.

I believe that to have one or two people in your life who burst into heartfelt laughter at you on a regular basis is a fortunate gift. To have more than a couple such friends, as I do, is to be blessed and highly favored indeed. I’m so grateful for those people in my life, and recalled tonight the very first time I recognized this gift. My high school best friend and I were riding the after-school bus home. I don’t remember the situation, but I do remember I was upset and venting, possibly crying, and I said something that made her laugh out loud. That made me laugh, and the upset was over. I just sent that friend a hostage note proclaiming that I would die if I didn’t receive a certain recipe by noon tomorrow. As I hit send I imagined her reading it, and I could hear and even feel her unique, musical laughter erupt as she read it. And so I thought to mention my gratitude for her, and for those several other friends who frequently laugh at my way of expressing myself. You know who you are. Thank you for your laughter: I treasure it and I love you.

Bandits and Butter

Oct12

Anticipating several cold, rainy days last week I started a new puzzle that Amy’s mom had sent me. Amy and Judy visited me at Auntie’s way back in 2013, another world ago, and we all did our first Liberty puzzle together. I’m grateful that Judy continues to enjoy Liberty puzzles, and that she did not especially like this one so she passed it along.

Because we actually got only a few hours of cold, rainy weather, the puzzle took me awhile to complete, and I finished it yesterday just in time for Zoom Cooking with Amy. I wasn’t crazy about the color scheme of this puzzle, and people are not my favorite whimsy pieces, but it was new and free, and there was a lovely symmetry to doing a train puzzle from Judy, since our first Liberty was a different train puzzle. And the puzzle itself overcame my initial judgments because it was delightful, fun, and every bit of it filled with story. So many stories, all over the puzzle! And all the little stories fitting together, piece by piece and then segment by segment. The engineer in the window with the bandits shooting outside, the guy falling out of the boxcar, the passengers being herded out, and the little band of people in the distance – are those the bandit hunters? And the whimsies: the little banker running for his life, the bandits, the horses, the maidens in distress…

It looked like it would be pretty easy, and I assembled the title at the top and the subtitle at the bottom, and then it got more complicated. Especially when the side edges came together quickly and I had to slide all the pieces out of the way and gently pull the top down to connect the sides. After that the real puzzling began.

Five days later the puzzle was done, and it was time for Butter Week. There was another lovely symmetry in finishing the puzzle late afternoon that Amy’s mom had sent, and then zoom cooking with Amy half an hour later. I am so grateful for my oldest friend and her mother!

I wanted to make butter candles from a recipe I spotted on instagram; Amy wanted to make butternut squash gnocchi. We supported each other’s choices. For the candles, which we didn’t make but I still might, we melted two sticks of butter and simmered with fresh sage, garlic cloves, half a pear, peppercorns, coriander seeds, and a pinch of salt. I was grateful to have fresh sage from my herb pots, garlic from the garden, and pears from the Bad Dogs’ tree. I ate most of the other half but mashed a little bit to throw into a wine cooler.

We had pre-cooked the squash on Friday. Amy cut hers into cubes and roasted it, while I chose to roast mine whole. I am averse to cutting up hard winter squash because it’s hard, and even though I’m skillful with a kitchen knife I always get the willies when my knife is met with serious resistance. Hers didn’t take long to roast in pieces but lost a lot of moisture, making her dough very firm; I didn’t even ask how long it took to cut it all up. Mine took almost two hours to roast whole, but was a breeze to scoop out and mash the next day. My squash had so much moisture that I had to keep adding flour as I kneaded the dough and finally called it quits with a very soft dough that was still a little sticky to roll and cut.

Both of our dinner bowls were delicious. We dressed the gnocchi so simply, with some sage butter and grated parmesan. Another successful zoom cooking! After dinner I admired the puzzle some more, and took a few detail shots for fun.

I had started another one-day mock wonder bread loaf yesterday also, and had to burn a fire in the woodstove to get a spot warm enough for it to bulk rise. By the time we finished dinner it was ready to roll up and plunk into the pan, and supposedly needed only 3-5 hours to rise before baking. But it was too late for that, so I left it in the mudroom overnight, and it rose beautifully over the next twelve hours. This morning I put it in the oven and then dressed a couple of leftover waffles with blueberries, Greek yogurt and organic maple syrup to enjoy while it baked.

After breakfast, and brushing the bread with butter, I disassembled the puzzle. As I carefully separated the pieces I once again appreciated the artistry, even as I listened to Pema Chodron respond to people’s questions about “How to Confront Fear.” How did the pioneers confront their fear of railroad bandits, and all the other fears that came with the choices they made? How do we deal with the perfectly natural fears of death, of degenerative disease, of living in these troubled times? How do we confront our fears about the current bandits in this rogue administration who are stealing our rights, our livelihoods, our money, our social safety nets, our very democracy? The answers always come down to seeing reality clearly, responding with wisdom and compassion, and taking action where you can.

Coming together in community, knowing we’re not alone, and taking action together are all antidotes to anxiety: Join a No Kings Day protest near you this Saturday, October 18!

After a morning that felt like a full day, it was lunchtime, and I sliced into the wonderful bread and made a BLT. So simple, so delicious! Though cool, it was gorgeous outside and I sat on the patio in the warm sun, reading Bill Bryson’s “In a Sun-burned Country,” laughing out loud at his travels through Australia.

Later I heard about the overseas travels of one cousin who’d been to Germany and two who’d been to Portugal. A third cousin reported her safe return from a week in NYC. I am grateful that all my travels today were vicarious.

Even later an unpromised gift came to me in a surprise visit by new friends who brought a bagful of geraniums and joined Wren and me for a walk to the canyon in the late day light. They felt the magic, and marveled at the ancient junipers, and nourished my heart. More gratitude today than grief, as my understanding continues to grow. Tomorrow could be different; tomorrow is not guaranteed.

“The ability to wake up to another new day — one with which we will surely need to wrestle and reckon, but one that will also teach and transform us … this is the unpromised gift for which to be grateful.”

Kristi Nelson, from Grateful Living’s Word of the Day

Abundant Sunshine

Mar25

I subscribe to The Atlantic online but recently haven’t read many articles because, you know, the headlines. I couldn’t resist one this morning, “The Trump Administration Accidentally Texted Me Its War Plans,” and was flabbergasted by this staggering story (gift link). I see by evening it’s hit all the papers and petitions, and really, everyone involved should be forced to resign. Call your representatives now or send a letter with Resistbot. National security is as chaotic as this puzzle, but not nearly so pretty.

Abundant sunshine has been most welcome these past few days, but it was cold and grey most of the days I worked ‘Sunshine Splatter Paint,’ on loan from the Hotchkiss branch of the Puzzle Club.

Biko has been happily spending the days in his round pen, and staying out long enough to tuck into his new log. The tulip sprouts are crazy with color!

As with the overall picture, I’ve been spending time making order from chaos. Along with Liberty puzzles, abundant mindfulness skills and supportive relationships have greatly assisted my sanity and my fluctuating joie de vivre. I’ve faced a few challenges, both internal and external, and been able to transform afflictive habitual thoughts (“suffering catalyzed by our interactions with other people, the environments and situations we find ourselves in”) into true (if fragile) open-hearted sentiments of compassion and loving kindness.

All but one of the little cabbage sprouts collapsed and died after I transplanted them up to larger pots. It was too soon, I think, their roots too fragile to rise to the challenge. So I planted more seeds directly into the larger pots, and have been setting them outside during the day to give them a head start on sunshine when they do emerge.

Just for this one picture, I did break the cardinal rule of Puzzle Club: no food or drink on the puzzle table, ever. How could I not just set a small bowl of color in the midst of the puzzle? I removed it right away and ate the dark chocolate M’s elsewhere.

The few butterflies in the puzzle recall the few butterflies I’ve seen outside, mostly little white ones since the passing sightings of Milbert’s Tortoiseshells a month ago.

The easy parts of the puzzle moved pretty fast, large flowers and stunning sky, but the middle took a bit longer. The entire process was its own unique delight, as always, from the whimsy pieces to the tenuous touches of placement, and of course, the bacchanal of colors.

Where’s Wren?

Naturally, I made time between teaching, learning, physical therapy, and puzzling to get outside once the snow slowed and mud began to dry. I cleared a couple of branches broken in spring storms, and ventured a little farther down the path each day. And I kept up my perpetually unfolding science experiments, also, with my latest subject a drowned spider. I didn’t mean to drown her but she’d gotten in the sink and I didn’t see her until she was well and thoroughly washed along with some dishes. Usually I see the occasional spider before I start washing and toss her gently over the edge where she can find her way back to her web. This poor girl, I thought she was dead at first but set her on a paper towel to dry off just in case she wasn’t. I dabbed her gently and she moved a leg, so I left her there. After the first day, she turned a bit, so I kept a loose cover over her and checked in a few times a day. After almost four days, she finally sauntered off between checkins.

This week’s winning sandwich was grilled havarti and prosciutto with mayo, mustard, and raspberry jam.

And then, the puzzle was finished, and ready to go back in the box. And I’m honored to have been invited to come out of my box this weekend and discuss ‘Skills for Being More Kind’ on the Mindful Life webinar this Sunday, March 30, at 6 pm Mountain Time. This monthly webinar series is free. In keeping with our mission to make mindfulness accessible to all, anyone who would like to attend can register here to receive the link. I hope I’ve developed enough skills for being more kind to find something wise to say.

One thing I’ll probably suggest is that being more kind to oneself makes it a lot easier to be more kind to other people. Another facet of kindness I’ll mention will be how when we understand our interconnectedness with all beings we naturally begin to develop more kindness toward our fragile spinning planet. The side-by-side images of the brachia of a human lung and a branching tree crown struck me as a potent image of intrabeing. This image and the one below came from an Instagram post by the drag queen Pattie Gonia, whom I just started following after seeing that she made the list of National Geographic’s 33 Changemakers for 2025. I don’t know where she got the images but want to credit her for sharing them.

If you want to organize, check out the links below. The top three offer up to date ways to get involved, and the third, Jessica Craven’s Chop Wood Carry Water also publishes a good news edition on Sundays. I hope that after reading The Atlantic article linked above, you’ll use the 5 Calls app in the bottom section to call your representatives and demand the resignations of the top US so-called “security” officials.

A Day Off

Feb6
For some, a day off entails strapping thin strips to the bottom of their boots and careening downhill on snow. But for me, a day off is a tamer endeavor.
No, it doesn’t include running, yet, but it did involve a lot of moving around.

I’ve decided to take at least one day off from external influences each week. Whatever fresh hell today brought, I can learn about it tomorrow. Body-mind-spirit all require relief from the stress of knowing what the usurpers are doing. Seriously, if they don’t break our spirits first, the stress alone could break our bodies. Every day this week I’ve engaged in several forms of activism, and today is a day off to nourish my resilience.

Which of these will be the final whimsy piece in the puzzle?

Another warm, springlike day motivated me to open both doors for some fresh air in the house. With music to help me move, I was in and out all day, cleaning the mudroom, the patios, carrying some things to storage in the yurt, feeling grateful for the wildlife and the woods, and for the emergence of the first tender crocus leaves in the yarden.

Though Wren looks ferocious, she’s just playing with the doe, who stands and watches as Wren charges past her and races around the yard.
Closing in on it, Kathleen’s Rule goes into effect: If you pick up a piece you have to place it.
…and then there was one…

On the evening I finished this puzzle, Changing Light, Changing Seasons by Brad Gorman, I stepped outside to a similar sky. A moment of layered joy.

This week’s best sandwich so far included chicken salad with celery and plenty of red onion, chopped romaine, mayo on both slices of rye, and sweet blueberry jam tempering the heat of the onion.

I’m grateful for fresh, homegrown Florida grapefruit. I saved some seeds from the last one to try to sprout, but then I learned that citrus seeds need to stay damp in order to germinate. So I opened my second-to-last Christmas grapefruit today and carefully supremed it so I didn’t damage a seed.

I’ll save and dry the peels, then use them in a variety of ways from tea to cleaning vinegar. Or maybe I’ll just compost them, we’ll know more later. I harvested four perfect seeds and planted them in four pretty little pots, after clearing space for them on the second shelf on the grow rack.

I’m grateful I was able to keep my attention in my home today: no outside influences, so that I could focus on housekeeping, spring cleaning, fresh air, music, movement and playing with plants, with joy and gratitude, without distraction or distress.

And then I baked. Another project that’s been on my mind for awhile like planting citrus seeds has been maple-pecan scones. This time I added a few dried tart cherries in with the toasted nuts, and remembered the egg wash before I put them in the oven. These turned out perfectly! So simple, so delicious. Then I glazed them with Mount Mansfield maple cream, which sets with a firm shell but remains melty soft underneath. I can hardly wait to wake up alive tomorrow and enjoy one with coffee.

Wherever you are, whoever you are, I hope that you find a way to nourish yourself today: pause occasionally to take a few deep breaths, get outside, move to some music, indulge in a treat; be kind to yourself, and be kind to someone else.

Seeing Reality Clearly: Coup Edition

Feb4

Wren has rolled over after hearing about the coup d’état unfolding in Our Nation’s Capital. I am not rolling over, partly because I don’t look nearly so cute, but largely because I am enraged. Infuriated. Sick. Call it a Coup! Come on you sissypants mainstream media, Call it a Coup! I’ve doubled down on my Jessica Craven calls to Congress, but I admit, watching Drumpf declare war on Gaza tonight chills me to the bone. I know there have been protests in LA against the ICE raids, and a large rally at the Treasury building in DC this afternoon, but for some reason I’m not seeing media coverage of these events as I would have expected to during the past administration. There must be rallies and protests happening around the country. Oh wait, there are! You can find events near you HERE.

I wish I had a new puzzle to help me through the coup this week, but I’ll share my journey with the puzzle that helped me through last week when the news felt bad enough — but not this bad — bad enough that I sold some retirement stocks to have a little more cash in that account. Today I withdrew some actual cash from my bank account. I’m grateful that I have a little cushion from years of saving something. I told the teller I was worried about my social security now that Elon Musk has taken over the treasury. And that was even before I learned the details of the kids who have access to the computer system of the entire US money supply. How the fuck did this even happen? In her insightful and inspiring Substack essay tonight, Joyce Vance quotes renowned historian Heather Cox Richardson, “The replacement of our constitutional system of government with the whims of an unelected private citizen is a coup. The U.S. president has no authority to cut programs created and funded by Congress, and a private citizen tapped by a president has even less standing to try anything so radical.” She goes on to write:

“But long-term success is not a foregone conclusion with coups, especially when citizens are unwilling to accept them. Already, we are seeing signs Americans have no intention of letting it happen here. It’s a slow, still-fragile start, but elected officials and American citizens seem to be figuring it out…. There is still plenty of fight left in our democracy, but it’s an all-hands-on-deck moment. This isn’t a coup with tanks in the streets and mobs overrunning government offices. It’s a quieter coup, a billionaires’ coup. Talk with the people around you about what’s happening and what it means if they’re not aware…. Call it what it is: A coup. Let’s make sure it doesn’t succeed.”

Notice the horse whimsy in the barn, next to the sunflower… and how the tree leaves fit together, below.

It’s taking every single mindfulness skill in my toolbox to get through each day so far this week. I’m making sure to step outside numerous times a day to simply take in a reality more beautiful and fundamental and true than any of the chaos. This is our precious planet, and to wake up alive is a gift. No matter what else happens.

To contemplate and cultivate connection is essential, with other people and with the natural world.

I started the puzzle with the barn because the colors made it obvious; then worked on the tree and the fenceline simultaneously. This puzzle had beautiful color blocks that made grouping the 500+ pieces easy. Since I only glanced at the boxtop before starting, it took me awhile to recognize the Boulder Flatirons as the red rocks in the foothills, and suddenly all the outdoor enthusiasts made even more sense. I wonder what Boulder is doing about the Coup? Did I mention you can find events near you HERE? We are Americans! We aren’t going to stand for this!

I recognized the rock climber because he looks just like a boyfriend from long ago, complete with the thin climbing shoes and the little chalk bag hanging off his hip. And those muscles! I’m grateful to know, even without looking on social media, that my old boyfriend is equally enraged as I am.

I wish I had the luxury to lie around and pick daisies, but that’s the kind of oblivious laziness that Muskrump are counting on the American people to indulge in. We can’t spiritual bypass, we can’t ignore like the bank teller who said, “I don’t pay attention to news,” we can’t stick our heads in the sand of a puzzle. As Oren Jay Sofer writes in his recent book Your Heart Was Made for This:

“When we habitually override our limits and push for productivity, all the while beset with distressing news, permission to do nothing is a welcome relief… But emphasizing relaxation to the exclusion of determination and action is a grave mistake. If we stop at relaxation, we miss the immense benefits of inner cultivation and risk abdicating our responsibilities to one another, future generations, and the planet. Relaxation and ease are essential in life and on the contemplative path, but they must be balanced with wholehearted resolve.”

Right now is the time to rally all your resolve. Action is the antidote to Anxiety. Thousands of excellent leaders are gathering tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions of grassroots activists. There is something you can DO, somewhere near you or from the security of your own home. Please just do something! Follow some of these leaders, those who resonate with you, whose voices bring you comfort and inspiration. Subscribe to Jessica Craven’s newsletter Chop Wood, Carry Water to learn a range of actions you can take each day to help protect America from this neo-Nazi takeover. Read this article by Rebecca Solnit to understand how the simplest actions of daily living –like mentioning to a news-phobic teller that there’s trouble in the money world– can make a difference. She may have dismissed me in my ‘Drag is Not a Crime’ ballcap but I bet I got her thinking, at least for a minute.

And, while you still can, savor every single cup of coffee, every single pot of tea, every single cheese sandwich, every single meal you’re blessed to set on your table. Finding stability in the midst of uncertainty is also a form of resistance, and takes practice, courage, and resolve. Seeing reality clearly can be painful but it’s fundamental to wise action. We cannot know what the outcome of this coup will be: unforeseen eventualities and unintended consequences may result in a pleasant surprise. But I imagine that hard times are coming. As Robert Hubbell says, “If you are suffering from a renewed sense of dread, take strength from the fact that we survived the first time around. And take heart from the fact that tens of millions of Americans are battle-tested, dedicated defenders of democracy.” Join them. Join us.

Last week’s Sandwich of the Week involved fried pepperoni that was getting old in the freezer for lack of homemade pizza, and pickled cherry tomatoes from three years ago needing to make room in the pantry. Also avocado, romaine, homemade light rye bread, and Havarti. And of course, God’s gift to the sandwich, mayonnaise. Do something kind for yourself today, and do something strong for our country.

Self Care

Jan30

There the slow dancers are at the waist that’s being tenderly held. This puzzle continued to delight me through its entirety, but that’s no surprise, all of them do, each in its unique way. The butterfly below is just one of many design cuts with several facets. The eyes of the face in the painting resemble eyespots on the butterfly wings which evolved to deter predators in one of several ways. That’s a very clever design.

Another clever though more obvious design is cutting glasses over the eyes, which might have even been wearing glasses from the shine spots.

And then the musical pieces: the clef coming out of the mouth of the singer, and the notes from the stringed instrument. What is that instrument? Guitar? Mandolin?

Each puzzle reveals its unique strategy as it comes together. Sometimes I start with colors I like, or whimsy pieces I like. In this puzzle I started with the pinks, leading me to complete the pink dresses and the umbrellas. Having glanced at the lid before starting, I’d noted that the pinks occurred in two quadrants and was able as the color blocks came together to place them in the right area on the board. Then I built outward from those two main blocks (above) until suddenly I could see how these two triangular halves of the puzzle fit together (below).

The clean white lines of the cocktail glasses made this section easy. Self care for me recently has included far less alcohol, but I can still appreciate an elegant cocktail and pleasing glassware. The pitcher and cocktail below escaped my notice as I separated whimsy pieces at the beginning, and only took shape as I assembled the pink dress.

This one is too simply too pretty not to call attention to. The one obvious pineapple piece had no correlate that I could discern in the fruit bowl, but the bowl is a reminder of another important element of self care: eat your fruits and vegetables, even at a party!

For me, an important part of self care is having a dog at my side. That’s a whole separate essay, or maybe a memoir. I love this dog with his quizzical tilt which could show his interest in many things: the conversation, the food, the music, who knows?

Nearing the end of the puzzle, I like to photograph negative space, and save one whimsy piece for the very last. It was hard to decide, when I ended up with a couple of spiders, a frog, and a crow.

I’ve heard for the past few years the claim that the US suffers from a loneliness epidemic. That may be true. It certainly makes sense when you think about the alienation from the natural world that most 21st century Americans experience; add to that the pathological immersion in screens of all sorts, and top it off with the perils of social media, and sure, I can see loneliness. But what I see more as I meet and teach more people is that there is another epidemic that correlates: the trance of unworthiness, as Tara Brach calls it.

My students are mostly women. Is it mere coincidence I see so much of this suffering, or are women more susceptible to this ailment of insecurity, not-enough, self-doubt, even self-loathing? I get it. I suffered from it for most of my life. It’s taken years of inner work to start to trust my capacities, to even like myself much less love and appreciate myself. I’m grateful that mindfulness teachers, practice, and skills are helping me wake from this trance and learn the true meaning of self care.

A hot bath and a massage are great, fresh fruits, a wooden jigsaw puzzle, a long walk in the woods are all wonderful aspects of self care. Brushing and flossing your teeth is great, but the kind of self care that can truly heal also includes making time to cultivate a deep inward connection with yourself: training your mind and attention, honing your core values and consciously living in alignment with them, making wise choices, and opening your heart to see purpose and meaning in your own life. And then remembering to be grateful for this precious life that you get to wake up to day after day. Until you don’t.

“The Picnic,” by Archibald John Motley, Jr., from Liberty Puzzles, Boulder, Colorado