Tag Archive | interconnectedness

Savoring Connections

Dec19

Moments of joy came throughout the week from connections with friends. Jennifer sent this marvelous photo last weekend of a redtail hawk perched on her fire escape in downtown San Francisco. I’m grateful for friendships through the years and across the country, new and old, simple and complex, in person and online. With the common ground of mindfulness and gratefulness, I’ve formed meaningful friendships with people I may never meet in person.

I had hoped to be generous with the three leftover lemon tartlets, but only managed to give away one of them. The other two I savored for breakfast last weekend. I found a little pot of leftover cream cheese frosting in the fridge, so I topped the first tart with that and the last raspberries.

The final tart cried out for a little leftover lemon curd since there was only a lonely dollop of icing left. I’ll definitely make these again.

My Colorist friend sent this gorgeous Christmas card she created. She explained that the passion flower represents “the Passion of Christ in all its beauty and terror,” with Mary “looking adoringly at and embracing the end of Jesus’s earthly life instead of the beginning” as in traditional nativity scenes this season. And of course, the sumptuous colors.

She also introduced me to the Hugo Spritz in her comment on my last post. I made mine without the prosecco using soda water only for the bubbles to give it less of a kick.

I’m grateful that grownup vitamins come in gummies too.

I sometimes wonder where the day goes, these short winter days. It seems like I get the bare minimum done and then it’s dark. One fun task each day is feeding the birds, and an especially meditative part of it is spreading the Bark Butter on various limbs and posts. Bark Butter, created by the founder of Wild Birds Unlimited, is a “spreadable suet” that includes peanut butter and corn. I put it out for the nuthatches who love it, but the jays come to devour it too.

A local friend sent this picture of an anomalous goose down in Delta with a flock of Canada geese (genus Branta). INaturalist identifies it with 100% certainty as belonging to the Grey Goose clan (genus Anser). A delightful conundrum.
This week’s sourdough, with a seasonal star.

I’m grateful for the great healthcare I receive from Delta Health, one of the many rural hospitals threatened by the Republicans’ healthcare plan which Andy Borowitz says is “Move to Canada.” I had a late afternoon appointment with my PCP for a checkup. I love her. She’s quick, thorough, listens well, trusts me with decisions, and we have had some hearty laughs, especially last week. And then the drive home from town was exquisite. I’m so rarely out of my little hollow at sunset, it was a treat.

My friends Ted and Cathey live about 80 miles north of Selma, Alabama, where the Walk for Peace monks stopped midday today, then walked across the Edmund Pettus Bridge. My whole day was infused with the joy of knowing my friends were there, carrying a little piece of my heart with them. Ted posted this and more photos on his daily blog, and will share more tomorrow.

This week of savoring friendships included some great phone conversations with friends from Florida to Virginia to Oregon, all of which also included some hearty laughter, such balm for the sorrowing soul in these dark times. Tonight’s small new moon/early Solstice gathering wrapped up this past week like a gift. The bonfire was slow to start but quick to burn, and safe in the bottom of an empty, muddy irrigation pond.

Grateful to feel safe in the bosom of my found family, I yet held in my heart the sorrow of those who lost beloved children, parents, friends, and family in mass shootings this week, to murder, to starvation, to climate catastrophes like floods and landslides, and so many more ways the ravages of human depravity manifest.

May I grow in understanding and compassion, and may my thoughts, words, and actions contribute to peace in this world. May all people grow in understanding and compassion, and may their choices contribute to peace in this world.

At the height of our ritual fire, the FedEx truck came down the driveway and a pack of dogs from three households ran barking off to greet him. He’s a great guy, we’re all grateful for Scott, and so are the dogs because he gives them treats. I whistled for Wren and she didn’t come, I got up and called and finally yelled for her, and still she didn’t come—but then I looked to the left and saw her trying to get to me through the fence—poor baby! She had probably come right away, but she came the wrong way and got stuck on the other side of the studio. I stepped through and gathered her up and held her close the rest of the evening. She’d had on her parka, but still got chilly, and has been sleeping next to me or on the heating pad ever since we got home.

This Weekend in Birds

Dec9
Slate-colored junco

I’m grateful to Ruthie and Jeff for inspiring me to get a Bird Buddy feeder. I hadn’t fed birds for a decade, and I missed them. They’ve brought such joy to our days, and once the snow covered the land feeding them feels especially meaningful: Giving back.

Two house finches and a mountain chickadee

My heart melts for the northern flickers who are new to the feeder, though they’ve been regulars in the yarden all summer. Another newcomer is the black-billed magpie, caught on camera for the first time on Friday.

There were other gifts interspersed with birds, including young Bucky nibbling fallen desert willow leaves; and a large four-point buck, several does, and their adolescent fawns, all making the rounds each day to sweep up under the feeder, nap under a juniper, graze under the snow.

Saturday I needed an extra morning hot drink after coffee, and finally broke out the Swiss ovomaltine a friend gave me a couple of months ago. She’d been given it by a young friend who brought it from Switzerland, but passed it on to me because malt disagrees with her. With the help of a translation app and a conversion app I got it mixed with the right amount of hot milk, and gave myself a morning break with the last shortbread, a gift from another friend. (How lucky am I!)

An uncommon black-capped chickadee sharing the feeder with a female house finch
Two of the three Woodhouse scrub jays who dominate the feeder. I believe these are the babies I watched fledge last spring.

Another gift enhancing life is this salad dressing bottle, with recipes for five dressings and measurements right on the glass. I had misplaced it for a long time, and was embarrassed to tell my sister who gave it to me. But now she’ll know that I’ve found it and am grateful all over again for it. I’m also grateful for the gift of enough Tupelo honey to splurge on the honey mustard dressing.

Another mountain chickadee, or maybe the same one, with another house finch, or maybe the same one…

I’m grateful for the Great British Baking Show for so many reasons, but in this case for the challenge where they were judged on the scoring of their loaves. It inspired me to try an oak leaf, and I would not have gotten good a good score on my scoring. But I think Paul and Prue would have approved of the bake, and the tuna melt.

Just look at those eyelashes!

Another baking experiment turned out well, these chocolate snowflakes from Penzeys. More about them later. I couldn’t resist dropping one on the mint chocolate chip ice cream. But just one.

A male house finch thinks he’s got the feeder to himself…
… then has to share with a burly evening grosbeak, who takes over the moment.
(from Rob Brezsny’s Astrology Newsletter)

This message spoke to me this week, as I continually navigate the threshold between who I think I should be and who I actually am. I’m grateful for a wonderful discussion tonight with our monthly grateful gathering around the concept of thresholds. One person entering the job market, one considering retirement, several concerned for grown children at their own thresholds, and all of us feeling the gravity of the threshold our country is poised on. All of us, also, facing awareness of the final threshold that awaits every living being. I want to relax along the path and enjoy the journey to that cliff, before the inevitable jump off.

Clarity and Tenderness

Nov5

Wren made a new little friend this evening when a neighbor spontaneously stopped by to check out a potential job upgrading the pond patio. Oddly, I had dreamt last night about her playing with a visiting chihuahua.

He and his little dog left just before the supermoon rose and we hurried up to the balcony to watch. Astrologically, I’m told, it’s a very special full moon in Taurus, giving us the opportunity to bring clarity and tenderness to our spirit and heart, and reflect on what we really want.

I’m grateful that Americans in many elections yesterday voted for what I really want, which is compassionate leadership. May clarity and tenderness prevail!

At the End of the Day

Nov4

A tiny delight, the shadow of the little dingo’s head on the page. I balanced my time well today, among work, housework, good works, and some escapist reading, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.

Another tiny delight, the little bowl Amy made for me some years ago, left on the desk yesterday after a dark chocolate M&M snack, just a tiny bowlful, and today shimmering in the morning sun, catching my eye while I worked.

And yet one more tiny delight, the grapefruit tree started from seed from fruit Kathleen sent last winter. It grew too big for the grow light stand so I ordered special citrus soil which arrived today to pot it up. Now it lives in the sunroom. Someday, grapefruits!

I split some kindling and chose delight rather than frustration in the challenge of knots, which pinned the splits together several times. No need to force them apart, they’ll kindle just as well pinned.

For lunch, I roasted golden potatoes and spooned some onto the last of the Brie which melted deliciously, and topped with leftover bacon.

I could really see this afternoon how my inner state affects my outer state. It’s a foundation of mindfulness, this awareness that in any moment there are many factors that can determine our outlook and behavior, from physical, emotional and mental comfort or discomfort, to cultural norms or biases, to genetics and family of origin characteristics, to the weather. I received an email that made me very uncomfortable, and I struggled with how or whether to respond.

Would I have felt so irritated if I hadn’t earlier listened to this important conversation between two respected legal experts on the ramifications of the regime’s nearly 100 murders on the high seas over the past 61 days? Why is 61 days important? Why is this unconstitutional behavior by the White House not getting more attention? Because the people being murdered are “not American” or “not like me”? Because they are allegedly running drugs? There’s no evidence for that, just the Commander-in-Thief’s proclamation. This is yet another test: if Americans do nothing, they’ll take it as permission to fire upon any boat, eventually, anywhere. Joyce Vance and Steve Vladek unravel the complexities and urgency of the situation in a fascinating discussion.

I took the little pets for a walk and savored the lovely warm afternoon, the beauty in the woods, I cussed at a patch of small dead Russian thistle that escaped my notice and now has gone to seed, walked some more, and came in to chair an Indivisible zoom meeting. While the walk had somewhat restored my equanimity, the weed patch threw it off again, and I was still ruminating about the email when I sat down to lead the meeting.

I felt cranky, but turned my attention to gratitude to open the meeting, thereby managing to quickly switch gears and celebrate the achievements of my colleagues, who rallied in a matter of days to deliver more than $600 worth of groceries and other staples to one of the local food pantries over the weekend: Because of the starvation policy that the Lie-a-Tollah is holding over Americans to coerce surrender on the government shutdown, while he and his billionaire toadies (no offense to toads) feast ironically.

After the meeting, I continued putting up the potato harvest, roasting some for dinner, some to freeze for quick hash browns in some uncertain future. The potatoes I thought were red are indeed purple! And tasty.

While I would very much like to throw a tantrum sometimes, and cuss out people I know or more commonly those in the current regime, (or to use a more vulgar nickname for he who shall not be named), I’m an adult. I try to live according to virtuous values, and acting like a spoiled brat or a mean girl is not an option. This article in the Atlantic, “A Confederacy of Toddlers,” reminds all of us that the only way to beat this regime is to remain the adults in the room, and we each have to do that one at a time in our personal lives. We need to manage our emotions and befriend (or at least tend) our inner demons so that we don’t set them loose on everyone else. But it’s ok to have a sense of humor.

At the end of the day, which is where I am now and grateful to have made it here, especially knowing that so many people did not, and knowing one person who almost didn’t, all the personal irritations fall away, all the global uncontrollables fall away into the vast emptiness of nondual unconditioned reality… Or they at least get absorbed by watching the joyous extravaganza of the latest episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race España, which is ultimately the same thing.

No Kings II

Oct18

I’m grateful every day I make it to the end alive, I really am.

Fresh yellow ribbon down the middle of the road, glowing October cottonwood leaves flicker in a breeze. They’re the same color: the ribbon not yellow exactly though we call it yellow, but the color of cottonwood leaves when they’ve passed their brilliant sunshine stage and a few days before they brown and fall to the ground. That stripe, those leaves, in perfect harmony; the roadside curve signs glinting the same color pointing the way to town.

A female northern harrier flapping and coasting over the arroyo. Guo Gu says “It’s all good,” and explains that even in the midst of great suffering, we can still choose to do the right next thing, whatever that is.

It’s an utter and complete surrender to how things are in this moment, right here: not anywhere else, not another time, not another moment, this one. May I never know the suffering of eight billion others, but only know and never forget, they suffer.

A golden eagle surveys the rolling sage flats from a power line T towering over the dobies. I’m driving to town for the second No Kings rally and protest. I’m grateful for this glorious morning alive.

The speakers were inspiring, the signs were creative, a couple of Portland chicken riders showed up and a big bad wolf. As she passed us the woman I was standing with said, “That’s ICE!” It certainly crossed my mind, it was jarring to see someone completely masked, but my more generous interpretation was it was someone bashful. Nothing bad happened.

There were young people and just a few children, and like last time, most of the protestors in Paonia had grey hair. Some hobbled on walking sticks and some rolled in chairs. I once again saw many old friends and acquaintances I hadn’t seen for years, and was grateful I could recognize and remember more of their names.

There were signs loving America, loving the planet, loving each other, and my own sign Grow Love. I was grateful I had all the right ingredients to throw it together this morning after thinking about it all day yesterday. I had one old piece of foam core board, remembered a stash of handmade paper, and finally found the Mod-Podge I knew I’d had in a box of magazine pictures for collage under the desk for years, but tidied away this summer somewhere obscure.

The inspiration was a distillation of Martin Luther King, Jr’s quote “Hate can­not dri­ve out hate; only love can do that,” plus the idea that we reap what we sow. Not to mention the nearly two dozen geraniums I ended up with to give away, and Garden Buddy’s basket of sunflower seeds in support of Ukraine. I was grateful to come home with only two geraniums and one of those is spoken for.

After the speakers the crowd I estimated conservatively at more than 400 streamed out of the park and marched through the neighborhood beneath autumn trees down to Grand Avenue. I packed up my stuff with a little help from GB and Son, and headed home. But I saw that instead of dispersing as they had done last time, the crowd was gathered at the south end of town, so I made a couple turns to get there. A cop directing traffic at the Second Street intersection let me turn to park so I could join in. They were singing “We Shall Overcome” in front of the High Country News building and I shot some video as they started walking. But I interrupted myself to get a still when I saw the macaw who was enthusiastically voicing his support for democracy.

The rally was joyful and uplifting, as were the more than 2500 rallies around the country and in some foreign cities. Early reports say that nearly seven million people turned out in the largest single-day demonstration against a sitting president. Friends sent photos from Gainesville and Tallahassee, FL, and these from Lexington, KY.

Cousin Mel knew I’d especially appreciate this Drag Race reference.

Enjoy photos from more protests around the country in this Atlantic photo collection.

Driving home my heart and thoughts again returned to the glory of the undersung cottonwoods, and I stopped on the road down into the Smith Fork Canyon to capture the colors, from the earliest turning in the foreground just beyond the power line to some of those road line golds by the river. I’m grateful for connection today, for the felt sense of interbeing with community and with friends far and wide. We will overcome some day. We’re in this together!

National Abusive Relationship

Oct1

I was just heading out for sunset last night when a friend from Australia called seeking help with a podcast software we both use. After I got her squared away with it, she wanted to chat so I took her out with me. The technical connection was murky, but the personal connection was delightful. We talked about the moral decay of civilization, the polycrises, the lorikeets in her birdbath, and some of our exes, and we laughed a lot. Sometimes it’s all you can do.

Prior to the broken lying man I dated briefly a few years ago, my previous relationship was with — well, another broken man — who, when I said I valued kindness above all, spit out “Kindness? I don’t even know what you mean by kindness.”

From today’s vantage point, I can see that this came from his brokenness. But he hadn’t said it in a sad way, he had dismissed my foremost core value with contempt. I should have dumped him that minute, instead of sticking around for another three years of emotional abuse.

Four decades of research by the Gottman Institute reveals that the primary destructive force in any relationship is contempt; and further, that being the recipient of contempt in a relationship is a good predictor of—this is wild—infectious disease.

Crazy Panela Mexican cheese that you can simply slice and FRY! So I put the last of the beans in a tortilla, added a fried circle of Panela…

Sadly, I’ve been in a number of emotionally abusive relationships. This likely accounts for my now being happily single for so long; and, it also gives me firm ground from which to point out that the American people are in an abusive relationship with their president.

… a fried egg, roasted green chiles…

The lying, meanness, belittling, controlling, gaslighting and contempt I’ve experienced with past partners have parallels in everything this president does. America is in a national abusive relationship with its President. America, he won’t give it up: It’s up to you to extricate yourself from it. It’s not easy to admit how thoroughly you’ve been fooled, how completely you’ve allowed your values to be undermined to the point that you’re willing to hurt yourself and your loved ones just to keep him happy.

… a few corn chips for crunch and a splash of salsa, and fold the whole thing up like a Taco Bell crunchwrap.

I’m retraumatized every time I hear about the president’s performative cruelty, because I see it for what it is. So I’m retraumatized daily, and have to be careful how much of my attention budget I spend on the brilliant satires and shocked screeds that others are writing about his mental collapse, the brittle reports of each bite his regime takes out of the Constitution, the flagrant corruption of the Supreme Court, the complicity of legacy media and the oligarchy, and that’s just the tip of the shitshow.

After years of trying, I’m finally able to feel compassion for those who naively believed his lies, who felt a want, a lack, a need in their lives that they believed he and only he could fulfill. I imagine that some who voted for him weren’t voting based on hatred, mysogyny, and white supremacy, but on their very real needs: economic needs, a sense of security, a feeling of safety or belonging… and so they chose to believe the lies, despite some inner ick that tried to warn them.

I empathize with their longing for someone with seeming strength and certainty to make everything okay, and I understand the sense of betrayal they are starting to experience. I wish that they may find true relief from their suffering. It won’t come from piling more anger, hatred, cruelty and violence on top of what’s already being done in their name. May they come to see reality clearly, forgive themselves for their delusions, and walk away from this abusive relationship before it completely destroys their lives.

Staycation Album

Oct1
Wren helped get the yurt ready for our staycation guest.
Naturally, since it was Captain Amphibian who visited, we spent some time down at the pond to enjoy the big froglets.

It’s mind-boggling to realize that of the thousands of tadpoles who hatched, only about a dozen froglets remain visible around the pond. There could be many more I’m not seeing, deep in the rushes or out in the garden nearby, but most of them have dispersed or been eaten by snakes or birds. We counted three or four tadpoles remaining in the water, which may well overwinter there.

Much good food was enjoyed, including deep dish Dutch oven lasagna, waffles with blueberries, and tomato sandwiches.

We weren’t the only ones who dined well. Much nature was observed in rich and comfortable hours spent outside in the yarden, garden, and woods. As we repaired a garden gate we watched this praying mantis polish off a meal and then rest afterward on an old onion stalk.

One of the more fascinating occurrences was this Cooper’s hawk hunting the house sparrows who spend a lot of time in this fernbush just beyond the patio.

We walked daily, usually to the canyon rim, always with Wren, and often with Topaz along too.

Giving the Ancient One a hug, I spooked a couple of sagebrush lizards.

Two introverts conversing at a small cocktail party at the Black Canyon.
Wren napping on the warm rocks.

I was grateful for one cold, rainy day, so we could build a fire in the wood stove and pull out a puzzle. He chose one of the hardest, “The Hunt,” which kept us occupied off and on throughout the rest of the visit.

That little cold snap started the colors turning in earnest.

Poison Fish accompanied several sunsets on the deck, and some great movie nights. We enjoyed an Australian film fest all week, including “Priscilla Queen of the Desert” and several featuring aboriginal actor David Gulpilil: “Walkabout,” “Rabbit-Proof Fence,” and “The Tracker,” all extraordinary, thought provoking movies.

One afternoon we drove along the Black Canyon south to Blue Mesa Reservoir, the largest body of water in the state. Dramatic scenery all along the way no matter which way we looked, up down left right.

Of the many potential activities I had lined up, we managed to accomplish quite a few, including a stroll along the North Fork of the Gunnison River at the Paonia River Park, and lunch at Nido in town, where he enjoyed chicken quesadillas and I ate the best tacos ever, bubblegum plum carnitas.

We played with the GPS feature in Photos to mark and locate this special tree, so we could return and hide a little treasure inside.

It was a marvelous vacation and a most harmonious visit. I’m grateful that my friend made the trip, and adapted to all my conditions and particularities with ease and good cheer. It did me good to stretch a little. We were both a little melancholy to see it end. However, similar to when you return home from a wonderful vacation away you savor the coming home, after my staycation I am once again savoring the contentment of my routine solitude.

Perspective

Aug1

It’s been such a joyful journey to watch these little creatures grow. I’ve felt like I had a pretty good handle on their development, checking on them a couple of times a day, noticing the first tiny hind legs developing, and then seeing the forelegs on a few yesterday. I sent a picture to Dr. Amphibian, and he asked if any were coming out of the water onto land yet. Well I think not, I thought, If I’m just now seeing the forelegs, but I didn’t say so. I’m learning.

As I was leaving pondwatch last evening, there was a flicker in the rushes, a hint of a hop, and it was gone before I could be sure, but I thought I saw a froglet! A baby garter snake also escaped my camera; thinner than a pencil and quick it slithered off the flagstone and swam across the pond to disappear into the rushes.

Pondering what my friend had asked me, I came down to the pond this morning with fresh eyes, a shift in perspective. I looked more closely into the marshy ground with an open mind. These curly rushes over the years have grown roots to the bottom of the pond and created their own little land masses. When I noticed a baby frog right away, I had to laugh at my hubris, to think that in my couple of superficial visits a day I was keeping up with their development!

I knew the tadpoles had been clustering around the edges of the rushes for a week or two, but I hadn’t thought to inspect the rushes themselves for froglets. I only saw the tadpoles who swam away from the edges when Wren or I came close enough to disturb them.

There are still five or six adult frogs hanging around, some as big as the palm of my hand.

But the froglets, they’re only the size of one thumb joint—and yet perfectly formed complete miniatures of their parents! I only saw half a dozen, but now I know how well they hide I’m sure there are far more than I counted. The habitat is perfect for them: the rushes are partially submerged, providing a lattice over pockets of warm shallow water. As they make their metabolic transition from herbivores to carnivores, they can find the exact niche they need in any moment somewhere in the spongy rush islands, and when they’re completely transformed into froglets they can climb all the way out.

Seeing one perching on a lily pad was absolutely the best part of my day.

The pond is rich in other lives as well. Dragonflies, damselflies, water bugs, spiders, and apparently enough tiny animals to feed a thousand froglets. I’m profoundly grateful for the way each day enhances my perspective.

A Quiet Day at Home

Jul30

I’ve found another way to use the last few drops of maple syrup that always linger in the bottle after you think it’s empty: it floats on the latté foam! A sweet treat, a small triumph.

I’m grateful for a quiet day at home with pretty clean air inside and out, for accomplishing some household projects inside and out, for tender connections with nature throughout the day.

We took a nice long ramble through the woods this evening, and found somewhere new. It’s a small thrill to find myself somewhere new in my old familiar forest.

This morning at the pond another something new, another small thrill: The first frog’s forelegs!

And this evening, something else new, a little meeting of the minds on the side of the pond. Look at these vastly different organisms all getting along despite belonging to three different phyla: the snail, Mollusca; the tadpole, Chordata; and the dragonfly nymph, Arthropoda. How is it we humans can’t get along better? We’re all the same, five levels down the animal classification tier from Phylum to the smallest division. As members of the same species, we have a lot more in common with each other than we have different.

I’m grateful for all that is good in my life, and all the gifts of this precious day that will never come again.

Joy Anyway

Jul21

I’m grateful for ripe tomatoes (not grown here) and Olathe Sweet sweet corn, salt, pepper, mayonnaise, and homemade bread.

I’m grateful for a couple of days of reprieve from the smoke, and that the teams have most of the fires somewhat contained, and that they have stayed safe. Despite the heat, I’ve been able to get some work done in the garden mornings and evenings, including covering the remaining cabbages with screen cubes, and thinning carrots which grew even though their tops got munched.

I’m grateful it was cool and clear enough on Friday to leave the house open overnight, which made it cool enough inside on Saturday to cook. I threw together a potato-pepper-onion-garlic-cabbage-corn-black bean fry with Penzeys Arizona seasoning to use in burritos for the next few days, and dug out a specialty tool I bought last summer to slice the corn off the cob. My first time using it lacked precision but was effective.

It was cool enough to make a batch of apricot jam, but still too hot to process it, so I gave away a few jars and froze a few. I’m grateful to have learned that apricot jam freezes well.

Wren’s been a bit put out that she hasn’t shown up here for awhile, so she took a break from frog hunting to pose nicely this morning. So did a big frog, right by my feet, but then she sensed Wren coming!

It was hot early again today, so when the sweetest neighbor stopped by on her walk to pick up her jam, I invited her to cool off under the sprinkler. Then I went inside for breakfast, two little waffles with the last of the sweet cherries I picked up on Thursday, some yogurt, and of course, real maple syrup.

I’m grateful there have only been a couple of bird strikes against the windows this summer. But today the total doubled with two in a matter of hours. They both hit the south windows, despite the fluttering prayer flags. The first was a young female Bullock’s oriole, whom I set in the shady apricot tree; the second, a young house finch who might have been drunk on apricot mash. I put her in the juniper near the feeder where they all hang out. I’m grateful that both birds recovered.

I don’t live an exciting life. It’s not like I’m wallowing in active joy all day every day: far from it. I spent most of today inside, too hot to do much of anything besides read, meditate, and clean the kitchen. But I do cultivate contentment by practicing gratitude every day. I’m aware of horrors happening the world over: there are at least 35 wars going on which are devastating people, cultures, and the environment. The US government has lost its moral compass and spun off in an inconceivable direction. The planet is burning, flooding, quaking, drying, crying, aching from our species’ misuse of it.

And still life goes on. Everywhere, all the time, life is hatching and dying, growing, playing, eating, aging, changing. I’m aware of this, also, and of my good fortune to live this simple life, this rare and precious human life, immersed in nature. Sometimes it’s pretty hard. It’s been a rough ten days with the heat and the smoke, and the mental poisons that still trouble me despite mindfulness practice. In the midst of all that is naturally tedious or trying in this human life, almost every day I experience moments of joy. Maybe not many, and most of them small, but by remaining receptive and aware, I find them everywhere.

Though the reason for it is harsh, the smoky sunset light is lovely. On our stroll the rescue horses next door thundered up to the fence to greet us. After a mutually curious visit, they moved on and left us in pensive, contented silence, grateful for a weekend enriched by many bright and colorful moments of joy anyway.