1. Morning walks. Not too many pictures this week since we walked in the dark most mornings.
Walk news of note: Ringo got a new coat! Because of his arthritis and age, Eric doesn’t run with him much anymore, which was always our strategy for when it started to get colder — he would run and that kept him warm. We decided to get him a coat for this winter. While he hates wearing a collar or boots, for some reason he doesn’t mind neck gaiters or apparently a nice purple sweater jacket. How CUTE is HE?!
2. Ringo is 11 years old!!! The day after my birthday is Ringo’s. I have never had a dog this old, so it’s a BIG deal. Obi, my first, died one month before he turned eight (multicentric lymphoma), Dexter had just turned ten the month before he died (nasal sarcoma), and Sam was not quite 10.5 when he died from a ruptured tumor on his spleen (which was malignant and had already spread to his stomach). So yeah, 11 years old and still going strong? BIG deal. I am grateful to Sarah and Lori who told us Ringo existed and where to find him, and Sherry who was there when he was born and gave him to us to raise, and to Dr. Gaffney, Dr. Foster, and the whole team at Red Sage for helping him get this far.
3. Practice. Besides saving me, all these years and especially now, it absolutely feels like the merit of that practice is easing suffering, even when it’s just my own but maybe especially when I’m sharing my practice and doing it with a group. As sometimes happens, one of the writers in my Friday morning writing sangha asked me to type up and send her one of the things I wrote. Since I need to type it anyway, I thought I’d share it with you, kind and gentle reader. The poem prompt we were writing to was “Leap” by Joy Sullivan, but the prompt before that was “Miracle Fish” by Ada Limón and that made its way into my writing as well.
America is awful. That’s not news. What was news to me, not so much now as it was eight years ago, is that we are a violent nation. We started that way and have continued as such, and there are enough people who believe that wealth and power and hoarding resources matters more than service and care and community, more than other people or the planet, that most likely to be America(n) we will stay on that path. I don’t want it, and I’m not alone. What does that make us? Patriots? Revolutionaries? Human?
At this point, it feels like there’s only time to turn towards what you love, to feed and tend it, to try and keep it from drowning in the floods or burning in the fires. The current state of the world makes everything that simple, that urgent. The political landscape seems unreal, exactly like a movie — a movie [Idiocracy] that’s already been made, that at the time of its release seemed ridiculous and impossible, and yet here we are.
What does feel absolutely real is the every day human suffering and joy that goes on regardless. We watch it through tears and dust and try not to think too far ahead, awake in our awareness that the Miracle Fish is not a miracle or a fish but rather a different sort of magic trick we hold in our hands as our hearts struggle to swim through love as thick as honey and every bit as sweet. And I don’t know about you but I’m so tired I can feel it in my bones, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I can hear your heartbeat from four feet away, four miles, four years, four planets away. As long as I can still hear it, I won’t give up.
4. My niece, Jessamy, my brother’s oldest daughter. She is grown and has two kids of her own now, (this pictures of us are from when we were both MUCH younger). She just so happens to have experience as a caretaker and a big heart, so when it was clear my mom, her Nana, wouldn’t be able to live on her own anymore, Jessamy stepped in to be one of her primary caretakers.
On my birthday, and given that Mom has a hard time knowing what season it is, let alone the month, date, or day, or remembering the special days, Jessamy made sure to help Mom call me, reminded her it is my birthday, and that’s kind of a big deal because I was already grieving and expecting “my mom forgot my birthday.” Mom may stick around long enough to one day forget me altogether, and that breaks my heart, but knowing that I have a family that includes people like Jessamy who continue to love and show up for me is such a comfort. ❤
5. My tiny family, small house, little life. Today is the beginning of Eric being on a break from work, and I am already loving it. And it doesn’t have to be anything special happening, just us dinking around the house on a regular day doing not much of anything is all I need to have the best day ever. I think Ringo would agree with me.
Bonus joy: soft chewy sandwich bread, toffee, a warm mug of tea, snow (I sure hope we get some more soon), libraries and librarians, poetry and poets, massage, my weighted blanket, the hydromassage chair, training with Shelby and the gang, soup, cheese, a warm shower, napping, listening to podcasts, watching TV and movies, naan, gummies, my home office with its spaces to be on the computer or write or make art, cuddling on the couch with Eric and Ringo, hugs, curly hair, clean sheets, comedy and true crime, kitchen counter love notes, flowers in the bathroom, down coats and pillows and blankets, leftovers, trash service, my infrared heating pad, wool sweaters and socks, blankets (I think I have a problem), the sound of the furnace kicking on and running, twinkle lights, the cool lamp Eric got me, stickers, other people’s kids and dogs and gardens, dogs joining us for yoga at Red Sage, cooking, grocery shopping, prescription medication and insurance and vaccines, how good Ringo was when he went for acupuncture this week, knowing something is working, texting with my brother and Chloe’, being able to let go, curiosity, compassion, reading in bed at night while Eric and Ringo sleep.
