Suffering

I'm sitting here in my bed, right next to Friday, who has claimed one flannel-covered pillow for his own. He's purring and not purring, off and on, and looking up toward the ceiling. Something is in the attic, skittering around. Sounds like a squirrel, too big for a mouse. Right around the time that Familiar kitty was passing, I heard squirrels in the attic - or on the roof, not sure which - all the time. I haven't heard any for a few weeks, though, not until the last couple days. Friday looks so puzzled, his eyes following the skittering beyond the ceiling. I wonder how they get in there!

In the midst of the darkest week I've had in a long time, I did manage to get to yoga class...not one, not two, but three. In spite of the anger and frustration and sadness that have been the most prevalent emotions this week, there is some little voice within me that says, "hey, this used to really be good - do it now!" I'm going to trust that, and also have no expectations.

Yesterday, one of my dismal posts on Facebook asked what people thought life was about. One man replied that life is about learning through suffering. His words hit home right away. I seem to recall that his kitty passed the day before Familiar kitty - so he is surely going through some of the same feelings I have. Learning through suffering. I've sure been feeling the suffering part, but I have wondered all day what it is that I'm learning here...or resisting learning...

One thing that I am clearly resisting learning is that fingers are for loving kitties...not typing! Friday has relocated to my right knee, pushing my keyboard off to the left, and keeps insisting his head under my typing fingers, clearly showing me what really matters. Bless this being. Bless him. He is the best teacher I've got right now, that's for sure. He's given me a reprieve for the moment, and has moved on to licking my hand as I write here.

Suffering. Everything and everyone that I love will leave, die, fall apart. That is the very truth of living, and the very truth of suffering. The more I love, the more pain I will feel when the loving is interrupted. So, there's a part of me (and I doubt I'm alone here) that says "fuck it! What's the point anyway?!" Why love if it's going to hurt so much later. But the truth is that I feel things really big, really deeply. And I've done enough intense, deep spiritual work that there's no turning back now. There's no shutting the door to my heart. It just doesn't make sense, it's no longer an option. And in the reality of that, suffering seems to be the only option. And I think the reason I've been feeling so angry this week is that that really sucks! So, the more I open my heart, the more pain I'm going to feel. Great. Check please...

Today as I was driving in the pouring rain in Baltimore - feeling supremely bitter and pissed off - I thought of two things. First, if life is nothing more than waking up, eating, pooping, and sleeping again, with maybe a bit of working for money thrown in, then FUCK IT! I'm not playing anymore. I will lay in bed all day and piss myself and shit my pants and starve first. I know, it sounds ridiculous. But what's behind that madness and anger is outrage - that I demand that life be more than this, that I absolutely insist that my life have meaning. And that's probably a blessing - the energy of anger pushing through the murk of sorrow. Second, the thought came to me that in spite of the devastation of experiencing death steal away the life of my little buddy while he was in my arms, I have not died. And there is part of me that feels guilty for that, that while my little kitty is gone from this world forever I am here, and am supposed to continue living. But besides that guilty part that feels like I shouldn't go on living, that I should lay in my bed and shit my pants until I die too, there is another part that says, "hey, I'm still here..." and wants to LIVE out loud, fully, richly, just like I always have. One voice says, "shit, get over this, you're wasting your own sweet, precious life!" And another says, "this pain is so deep, you will never survive it."

And beyond those voices and those feelings, there is the sunrise and the sunset, and rain and wind and clouds and starlight, and sunshine. And there is a Magnolia tree watching over the decaying body of a being that was once my dear friend. And that dear friend is probably still lingering somewhere nearby, waiting to show me what I'm supposed to learn next from this whole ordeal.

He came to me in my dreams three nights in a row this week. Once, I was in a high school classroom, with other people who I went to high school with - and there he was, trying to squirm out of my arms, trying to get out into the hallway and explore. Another dream, I was obsessing about his losing weight and being super skinny. I can't recall the other one, exactly. But what was so lovely was touching him - the sensation of having his body in contact with me - that has been what I have longed for and missed so desperately. In spite of all the esoteric teachings - and my own experience - that say that the body is only a shell for the Spirit, it is my full experience in this reality that I relate to other beings by touch, by speaking, by sight and sound - through the physical senses. That is so hard to let go of.

So, what am I learning here through this suffering? A question to continue pondering...

Partnership

It's been plenty of days since I last sat on the porch to do my blogging. And today is stunningly beautiful! It's probably almost 70 degrees, and not a cloud in the sky. I love it! I am feeling a walk in my future, maybe in the woods, maybe to Main Street along the trolley trail. Feet and breathing and a beautiful fall day with almost all the leaves off of the trees...mmm...

I'm also noticing this remarkable transformation of the Magnolia. Last Sunday I went to offer Familiar kitty some blessings underneath her beautiful boughs. The cones were still fuzzy and pink, but the red seeds were beginning to emerge, little jewels in the velvet. Today, the cones are looking brown and studded with these bright red dots! I wish I had been able to watch it emerge day by day. But I am grateful to have even been able to watch her transformation this much! Never before did I know the cycles of Magnolia.

In spite of the fact that my house is a mess and I have lots to do, and in spite of the fact that I had a fun night in Baltimore last night with Michael, I have been finding myself feeling a bit lonely this morning. Especially after last Sunday's brunch! It's so nice to have a gathering in my house, to bring people together in an informal, chill gathering and just see what emerges. I am forever more in awe of the changes that I am observing within myself. I am finding that I really am no longer a loner. I'm also finding that in spite of the fact that I am feeling ready to be in a love relationship with someone who's really on the same page, I am not at all wanting to be absorbed into that whole dynamic of "cult of pairs" as Michael calls it. Sure, that kind of intimacy is necessary for any relationship to thrive, but I am longing for the kind of connection that is bigger, too. Community. And anyone who comes into my life, romantically, needs to be interested in the same thing. Coming together to come together in a bigger way. Partnership is what I crave. Not just a lover. Not just someone to be entertained by or with. Someone who can stand strong beside me, and who is ready to see how the power of two can create even bigger togetherness and power and love in this world.

Is that really too much to ask?

I was talking with Michael last night, and one of the funny things that crossed my mind is that it would be an awesome experiment to somehow go on 100 dates with different men. Keeping myself open for real possibilities, and keeping the idea of a fling totally out of the picture. It was inspired by Dancing Lodge a few weeks back, when we were dancing in pairs, and kept changing partners every couple of minutes. It was amazing to feel how the energy and dynamic between each pair was so different! The ways we came together, sometimes playful, sometimes mirroring each other, sometimes completely out of sync - these were incredible ways of relating that were utterly nonverbal. And *this* is the heart of what would make going on 100 dates so interesting. To "practice" showing up authentically with new people, to experience the difference in dynamic between myself and so many others, and to seriously stir the pot.

This stunning day beckons, and I must answer that call.

October Rain

The afternoon is unseasonably warm, and the humidity is thick. What began the day as scattered light showers has now turned into a steady rain, becoming heavy at times. This is the end of summer lingering into the mid-Fall, and it is glorious. The sound of rain on the leaves is one of the most soothing sounds I have ever known. Oh, this is a spectacular late afternoon!

The cones on the Magnolia are still fuzzy and soft, and glowing a deep crimson in the wetness. The other day as I went to visit Familiar kitty's grave, I was captivated by Magnolia, her stunning changeless leaves, dark brown and shiny. And her sweet, soft cones have begun to change. It seems as if they are developing eyes that are just beginning to open, and those eyes are the gateway to her seeds, bright red and shiny. As I explored her with curiosity, I pulled one, then another, then another of these red seeds out of their casing. Amazing! They pulled away, releasing a string of white, much like a sticky spider web. I offered these three seeds to the still-festive gravesite beneath her graceful watch. I also offered her my gratitude for her stunning presence, and for her ever-present sentinel over my sweet kitty.

The rain has become heavier in the few moments I have been sitting here on the porch, and there are so many sweet scents in the air. Earlier in the afternoon, I could smell the sweet Pine tree in my neighbor Lynn's yard - Thomas, we call him - his fragrance was extending more than thirty feet in the thick afternoon humidity! What a delight! Now, I smell the distinctive fragrances of human cooking - my own, "morning glory" bread for tonight's potluck - and something savory being cooked by a neighbor. Mmm... Also, the smell of the damp earth permeates beyond these powerful smells of food...and a faint, curious scent of some kind of flower... I wonder if it is an essential oil calling out to me from upstairs. I love it when they do that.

Now, the rain is really falling heavily! This is the most wonderful thing in the world, spending time sitting present with the splendor of the Earth, her weather like my own feelings that are in a state of eternal shifting and changing. It's funny, I had several things in mind to write about this afternoon, but in this moment, the rain falling all around is the only thing that I can remember.

What I have been noticing in the last couple of days is that my heartache and stuckness are shifting, as the rain. I sure do miss my little kitty, and in many ways I still can't believe that I will never be able to touch his sweet body again, or hear his plaintive cries, or be annoyed by him trying every possible way of getting in whatever food was around. I miss rubbing his little chin...that was his favorite. And I miss the way that he would come and settle on my pillow, sometimes almost like a tight little hat around the top of my head. I miss the little narrow hourglass white spot that ran down the bridge of his nose. I miss his faint purr that was so soft it was almost a secret between us. I miss the little pink pads on his feet, and the little black spots on some of them. I miss the way he would boldly walk across my body, on my keyboard, between my book and my face, the way he would step on me in the most awkward and uncomfortable ways, as if demanding my attention. And every time I find little holes or threads in the left leg of my pants, I know that he will always be with me...right there, climbing my leg, begging for Indian food. And I am grateful that in this moment I can write about him, and am not filled with desperate sadness. In fact, my heart is swelling with these memories, and of the love that I have for that little fuzzy being. God, I love him. And I will love him forever. That's the beauty about love, it just keeps on flowing beyond living and dying, beyond coming together and falling away, beyond joy and pain...when the pathway of the heart is open, love just keeps on giving birth to itself in every moment.

Once more, I am connecting to the epiphany I had about love the other day...that I can take that energetic tendril of love connection that used to connect me to Familiar kitty, and I can bring it into my own body. I can allow that love to flow through me now, and somehow, that makes the pain of loss a little less acute.

The rain has given way to a light drizzle once more, and as the afternoon light fades, the green-yellow glow of the trees seems to be carrying the light of the sun, who is far from sight today. Their glow is intensified as the light of day fades into darkness, and I am grateful to have spent this time here once more, connecting inward through connecting to the Earth.

Two weeks

How long has it been since I sat on this porch to write? Two weeks, I believe. Today marks two weeks since Familiar kitty passed. And even this afternoon, as I returned from DC, I found myself opening the front door with some expectation of a little black kitty meeting me anxiously. And today, being a beautiful warm day, I imagine that he would have met me at the window, actually. He loved to squeeze himself onto the tiny four inch ledge that is available as a perch when the window is open, and he would hear me coming home, and cry out as I walked up the sidewalk to the front door. I also imagined the way that he would lightly rub his body against my legs as I would come in, begging for food, for attention. And so many days, especially the days this year since I returned from Peru, he would meet me eagerly, sitting someplace funny. On the arm of the sofa - the closest point to the front door other than the floor. On the coffee table - he loved the new purple woven tapestry that I brought home from Peru. On the kitchen table, or on the stove, or on the kitchen counters - probably waiting there after scrounging about in the sink for something good. Oh, my little sweet buddy, I miss you so much.

But I am adjusting. I am no longer feeling like my house is empty. It is still and quieter than ever, for sure. But I am letting go. Some things come to mind that are easier now. I don't have to clean up the pee in the shower anymore...Familiar kitty sure did love to pee in there. And all this time I thought Friday was the one peeing on the bathroom rugs...I was wrong. It was Familiar all the time...but he surely didn't want me to catch him. I remember a couple weeks before he got ill, I noticed that the rug behind the sofa was wet with urine, and once again, figured that it was Friday. Then, a few days later, I found Familiar kitty peeing there, and I reprimanded him, wondering what the deal was. Now, I have some sense of it. Something was going wrong in his body, and whatever it was, peeing on the floor was part of it. Oh, it makes me so sad to think that he is gone. From where I sit on my porch, I can see the decorations on his grave, colorful and varied.

Porch sitting without him is strange, too. I have a plate that once held a slice of toast and some broccoli...and there is no kitty to lick it clean. Friday doesn't have any interest at all. Now, he does have some strange interest in eating the dried spearmint leaves that are out here on the porch...that seems odd, but hey, if it makes him happy, spearmint is almost like catnip, right!

Today is really warm, and the sun is bright in the blue cloudless sky. There are tiny insects floating around, flying in patterns that seem utterly random, and the golden light illuminates them, turning the sky into a wonderland of twirling sparkles. The trees in my yard are holding tightly to their leaves, which are just barely turning yellow right now...it is a stunning Fall day. Friday kitty was reluctant to make his way downstairs with me, but once I carried him down, he got the idea: porch sitting time on a sunny afternoon! And now, he is resting in a sunny spot, loving it. Oh, my little Friday love...I don't know what I would do without him right now!

The golden illuminated insects have multiplied, and are even more plentiful than just a moment ago! They are dancing in the air, more random than snow, but light as milkweed blowing in the gentle breeze. A yellow jacket keeps invading my space, trying to enjoy the last bit of apple cider in my glass. Drunk on its sweetness, he keeps swooping a little too close for comfort. There won't be too many more glorious warm days like this before the weather turns cold. I am grateful to have the time today to sit here on the porch and be present. The cones on the Magnolia are reddening more now, such a contrast against her shiny, dark green leaves. Beneath her is the grave of my little Familiar kitty. Sweet tree, watching over the final resting place of my little kitty love.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Communion, Mother Earth, and my Fellow Humans

Yesterday's blog really allowed me to hear some needs within myself that were not being met, and I was able to listen to those needs and begin to meet some of them. I spent time on the porch having breakfast with the kitty, and sipping a cup of tea. A much better way to begin the day! And what I noticed during the rest of the day is that no matter what things I "had" to do, I was coming from a place of deeper satisfaction within myself. Being stuck in slow traffic on the way to school wasn't as much of a pain as it might have been otherwise. By beginning my day by honoring my needs, my whole perspective shifted.

So, this morning, I am writing this from the cushions on my porch. There is a slight chill in the air, even though it is almost noon. A few stray leaves are turning yellow on the trees in front of my house. The cones on the Magnolia are still pink and fuzzy, and I am really looking forward to watching them become...well, the thing I found on the streets of DC last winter! I still remember the day, I was walking to a meeting for the Choral Arts teaching artists, and there on the sidewalk was this incredible, bizarre looking "pinecone." I picked it up and carried it with me to the meeting, hoping to find someone who could recognize it. Someone told me it was from a Magnolia, and before that point I'd never really been interested in or aware of those trees.

This season, Magnolia has become one of my beloved friends. Her shiny leaves seem out of place within the realm of foliage that lives in this area...they seem misplaced from the Amazon. And yet here she is! I have peripherally noticed the blooms on the tree in my yard for years, but never really made a connection with them. All I could see were giant white blooms that looked like a wad of crumpled paper. What a tragedy that I never looked closer!! This year, the Magnolia bloomed more than ever before! The blooms were huge and creamy white, with thick, soft petals...which turn brown and leathery when they wither and fall to the ground. The center of the blossom is otherworldly, very sturdy and intricate...these become the cones. But the fragrance, oh!! She leaves me utterly spellbound. One day this past summer, I was laying on the ground beneath her, and periodically, a river of fragrance would sweep by...it was just magnificent!

Taking the time to see, to connect with the world around me, both human and plant and animal and wind and water and earth and sky...this is the richness of life, for me. Remembering "all my relations," as the Native Americans say. And when I do find the time and space to live within this perspective, I feel a deep sense of belonging. A belonging that transcends our constructed human ideas of what it means to belong. The "Garden of Eden" is still right here!! But I have to show up to live within it, to choose it consciously. What I long for, more than ever, is to share this kind of connection with my fellow human beings. Not just occasionally, when the season changes and someone hosts a party, but on a daily basis. Living in connection with "all my relations" in each day. What a beautiful thing it could be, to take the time to sit and be with the Earth, to be with the day/night, to be with the weather...and to be with other humans, too, while doing this! Much of the time...most of the time...I do this alone.

Once more, I am feeling the pull of simplicity. I feel how it is when I'm so busy, doing doing doing doing so much, and how I long for the luxury of porch sitting and watching the wind in the trees. And I feel how difficult it can be to step out of the raging flow of activity and try to claim a few moments of silence and peace. Guilt sometimes emerges, and stressful to get "behind." Sometimes this extends beyond the luxury of porch sitting into basic self-care. I don't have the time to provide myself good, nourishing food...cooking takes so long on those days, and there is no joy in it. Sleep is not usually a problem for me, but when life is super-hectic, I find that I need to sleep for 9 hours or more in order to restore myself from the intensity of living in such a busy way. And I end up feeling angry and stuck and frustrated all the time, I have no patience, and I really have no feeling of love for myself or for the world. On days like these, I have often felt like driving my car off the road and just abandoning it. Walking away. I am pretty sure I am not the only one...

What a blessing this week has been. I have had very little going on. Students calling out sick, and I, too, was feeling a bit run down early in the week. I have had lots of sleep, and have had the dear, sweet time to begin this blog and connect to my deeper needs and desires.

I had dinner with my friend Liz the other night. Indian food. And one of the things that I have come to appreciate about her is that our conversations are never trivial or shallow. I can be real and open with her, and I can cry, and I can be frustrated, and I can be joyful. I can show up exactly as I am, and that's perfect. What a gift, indeed! While I was waiting for her, I was realizing that I hadn't felt connected to my heart in days...I felt empty and scattered, and there wasn't much joy within me. By the time I left, I felt completely connected to my heart, open and honest and true. I am so grateful for this friendship, it is deeply nourishing, true sisterhood and soul food.

I am yearning deeply for this quality of connection in my life. But what I realize is that I don't experience it very often. I don't know a lot of people who are willing and able to go there with me. I feel like much of the time, when I let myself go there in conversation, people don't know how to receive it. Some get uncomfortable ...these conversations end up not lasting very long. Some people just try to distract from the depth, lighten it up, change the subject. Some people don't know how to be in this kind of connection at all, having never felt fully free to show up exactly as they are. Some people talk endlessly, always talking about something or other, never allowing the conversation any space to breathe or settle. And then, there's the advice givers...

I am fully able to admit and see that I have been an advice giver for much of my life. I am a "helper." I hate to see people stuck or unhappy, and I have little tolerance for people who complain constantly about this or that. For some people, life is always full of drama and problems, and I have had a very hard time sitting idly and watching people live in misery day after day, unwilling or unable to change that situation. It is always easier to see solutions to *someone else's* problems! But I am finding that unsolicited advice is rarely welcome. It often comes with the best of intentions, for sure. But it also comes with a lot of assumptions. Twice this week, in fact, I received unsoliticited advice from two different friends, both of whom are "helpers" and dear, sweet beings...and both times, I could feel an edge of something hard to describe...

My community has formed a "wisdom circle." And once a month for the last six months, we have met to have deep, heartfelt conversations. One of the "rules" of our meetings is that there is absolutely no advice giving in response to what a person offers. There is also another "rule" that states each person must only speak using "I/me/my" instead of the easy slip into "you" or "we," which also carry tremendous assumptions. So deeply entrenched is the tendency to offer advice, to help others clarify their situation, or to make them feel better. And what I've noticed in these six months is that there is a tremendous sense of freedom and acceptance that comes with speaking from the heart without receiving any response! It is far easier to say exactly what's alive in the moment without fearing the judgement of others, or worrying about how stupid I must sound, or whatever. It is a powerful thing, to have space held for me, no matter what I say. And it is equally powerful to hold space for others, without having to worry about having a "proper" response. And in that space of silence, I have felt such a deep sense of connection to the others...I am so grateful for this! How prickly it feels, then, to return to conversations with people who offer their advice without any sense of this alternative...

Is it so much to ask for? All I want is to live in harmony and deep communion with Mother Earth, and all my relations. To experience deep connection and community with my fellow human beings, centered in the heart, rich and simple. To show up every day, to offer my gifts to the Earth, to accept the gifts offered in return. To live honestly and authentically, and to care for others while accepting their care in return. Is that really so much? I think not. But it will take conscious effort. I am willing. I am also very much aware that I cannot do this alone...