on the subject of deep thoughts

I recently read this in a book on meditation by David Fontana.

T.S. Eliot wrote in "Little Gidding" in regards to concluding one's exploring:

"Arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

I really like that. I think of how many times we complain about "going around in circles", yet if we saw things as if for the first time we would always experience things anew. We wouldn't filter it with judgements. Mindful meditation is about living in the moment without judgement.

A woman once made the comment about her life as she reached more advanced years, "I wish I would have had more moments."

We build our life memories around events, usually big life changing ones, yet the bulk of our life is just moments in time, a sunset, standing at the sink doing dishes, reading a book, grading papers etc. yet we don't take the time to really feel and enjoy those "moments". Animals are very good at just living in "the moment". Oh what we higher intelligence life forms could learn from our four-legged friends.

I also like this Zen saying:

"I thought I had far to go, until looking back and saw I had passed my destination years before."

Here is my Zen thought: A raisin is a grape that has transmuted itself, but each is enjoyed in it's own right.

See what happens when you cut your hair? Some strange new identity emerges.

I will end with this: Have a grape snowcone day! That is really as deep as it needs to get.

Conventional Thought... IF

I think most people can identify with the thought contained in this haiku by Jack Prelutsky.

If Not For the Cat

If not for the cat
And the scarcity of cheese,
I could be content.

THE WEATHERMAN

I have been going through some of my papers. It is a never ending job. I have saved letters Beth and Tom wrote Mom and Dad when they were young. I have saved all kinds of greeting cards. I wish I could throw things away more easily. Anyway, I found a story typed by our mother which she intended to send to Reader's Digest. She addressed the story to the Life in these United States Editor. The paper is dated December 4, 1957. The story describes a conversation between two young sisters which our mom overheard. The two young sisters are Ellen and I. I asked Ellen for permission to post the story on Fiddler Kin and she gave it to me.

Life in these United States Editor:

Several years ago we had a hot and humid summer. There was very little rain for several months. With each passing day we kept hoping for the rain we needed so badly. At night when our two young daughters aged three and five would get ready for prayers and bed their daddy would say to them "Now don't forget to tell God to tell the weatherman to make it rain." This went on each night all summer and without success.

Toward Christmas time and after hearing many stories about the birth of Jesus, the girls began to make a cradle and place a small doll in it to represent the Baby Jesus. One day while they were playing I overheard the following conversation, the youngest said, "I want to be God." "No" said the oldest, I'm older, I'll be God." They argued back and forth for a few minutes then suddenly I heard the youngest say very defiantly "OK, you be God and I'll BE THE WEATHERMAN."

Mrs. N. L. Fiddler
9000 State Avenue
Bethel, Kansas

I do not remember Christmas time and learning about baby Jesus. I do remember the hot summer and the dry conditions. I remember that we were supposed to pray for rain. I do not remember the discussion between Ellen and I. I am glad Mother wrote the story down so we can read it now. She preserved a part of herself and our childhood for us. Mother was an excellent writer and I wish that she would have had a chance to develop her talent more fully. If she were alive and well, I know she would be a contributor to this blog.

New Dogs, Old Dogs! Can we learn new tricks??

Sunday I took the opportunity to walk with Sharon as she trained her fun lovin' pups Riley and Scout. Sharon has been working on leash training so she can walk them tandemly for exercise. What a challenge...but she is up to the task.

We met at the Farmers Market in Merriam to walk the bicycle trail south toward 75th Street. The animals wiggled excitedly as they waited for the command to exit Sharon's Explorer. Once out of the vehicle they tugged happily on their leashes; I had flashbacks to Katie and Trent's dog Wellington....a hefty animal that "towed" his human down the street on his "ski rope leash" as he searched for sites to "mark".

Sharon immediately took command of the situation; she instructed me on leash holding so Scout would stroll at my pace. We worked together to maintain the upper hand.

Dogs are intrigued by almost everything; a squirrel, another dog, or a bicyclist can cause the ears to perk up and the dog brain to intently focus. Being the good observer/trainer that she is, Sharon immediately and firmly told the dogs "leave it." The ears would droop and Scout and Riley relaxed ....letting go and mentally moving on.

I was amazed as I watched this command have this marvelous effect. And I realized that I too "fixate", not on other dogs, of course, but on problems both real and imagined. And because I do not have a good canine trainer (like Sharon) to prod me to better behavior, I fail to "leave it" ....I drive myself nuts worrying some negative idea to a frazzle.

With this new insight into my behavior, I decided to try the "leave it" technique at work where I fixate frequently on coworkers that I cannot control. Today, as I worked, I paid attention to where my mind headed....the negative Bermuda Triangle of coworker fixation. And when I noticed the signs (no ears perking; nose pointing) I mentally told myself to "leave it". Then I took a deep breath, relaxed, and smiled.

My, my, I had a much better day.....and I owe it all to Sharon and Riley and Scout! Who says you can't teach an old dog a new trick. Ellen

New Dogs, Old Dogs! Can we learn new tricks??

We each have a path to follow

We each have a path to follow.
A journey we each call our own.

We see the way so clearly in our mind’s eye.
The beginning, the middle and the destination seem so visible and easily navigated.

We see the openness and expansiveness that awaits us, much like a cloudless blue sky on any given day.

The journey excites us and our hearts accelerate at the notion that we have a path to follow. Our path. A journey we each call our own.

The truth is the path itself.
The detours, roadblocks, potholes and steep hills are not seen by the mind’s eye.

We navigate more slowly, with more hesitation, less abandon.


We feel tricked and cheated that this path is not so clear. Our mind has betrayed us with these visions and illusions of grandeur.

We continue the journey though, for the heart still feels the destination.

We each have a path to follow.
A journey we each call our own.
The truth is the path itself.

Sentimental Moment

I went to Poetry 180 after reading Katie's post. I found a poem about a relationship with an adult son. It is named Sentimental Moment or Why Did the Baguette Cross the Road? The writer is the father of the son. The writer could have also been a mom. I like the simplicity of the poem. I also like the story contained in the poem. It describes what I feel for both of my adult children. I sometimes want to take their hand and physically guide them. Nowadays, though, they take my arm and guide me.

Sentimental Moment or Why Did the Baguette Cross the Road?

Don't fill up on bread
I say absent-mindedly
The servings here are huge

My son, whose hair may be
receding a bit, says
Did you really just
say that to me?

What he doesn't know
is that when we're walking
together, when we get
to the curb
I sometimes start to reach
for his hand

By Robert Hershon, copyright 2001

To a Daughter Leaving Home

I was searching for poems to share with my writing class today, and I found this one on Poetry 180 (a website created by Billy Collins with the idea that students should read--and enjoy, not analyze to death--a poem a day in their English classes). This poem made me catch my breath and revel in its imagery ... even though I am not a mother myself, the writer made me even for a brief moment, feel what it must be like to have to let go ...

To a Daughter Leaving Home

by Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

from The Imperfect Paradise, 1988
W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., New York, NY