July 15, 2020-
I had to pull myself out of one of those funks which occasionally hits, this morning. By mid-afternoon, the ebb tide had turned around, and I found that making a small altar with my ferns, singing bowl, ceramic dolphins, metal whale, small Hopi pot, crystal and small angel had the calming effect that turned the emotional tide in the right direction.
It is never true that people are turning on me, though I used to let that illusion overtake my sense of equilibrium, in earlier days. It is always my inner voice that throws out the aspersions, at people who are just facing their own tough times.
My greater Faith will always be in the Creator, so this place of solace, in my living room, serves the same purpose as a nook in the woods or a soft place in the desert. No matter how long this mix of disease and chaos persists, I will navigate and persist.
The second half of July will find me doing much the same as I’ve been doing, since June 7: Home Base, to downtown, and back, from one Zoom call to another. Life will remain sweet.
May 16, 2020-
As I have thrown some very lengthy “shares” on my other social medium, I will keep this brief and just mention a few things that come to mind, as the night progresses.
I haven’t seen the Moon, in its waning phase, this month. Turns out, it rises at 2 a.m. and sets when it’s mid-afternoon. I do, however, go outside and meditate under the stars, before calling it a night.
My computer desk is something of an altar. Penny appears in three photos. My singing bowl is right in front of me. A family heirloom Buddha, which my father-in-law brought back from Paris, in 1945, sits atop the mantle, next to a hand-carved wooden soldier, modeled after the ones in Nutcracker Suite. A photo of ‘Abdu’l-Baha and one of our son bookend the mantle.
I planted my four vegetables, this afternoon, adding granulated organic food scraps to the soil and spraying animal repellent around the area. Javelina tend to come in the yard, during the night, so I want to get them accustomed to not liking the scent of the yard.
Now, it’s time to change course and say goodnight to the laptop. Books have their turn, in my wind-down.