Your Weekly Diversion, Week 16

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The Sixteens above commemorate The Pixel Project’s “16 For 16” Campaign: “A campaign in honour of 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence while raising funds for the cause to end Violence Against Women.” Definitely worth it.

Ready for some diversion? Here’s what I’ve got for you this week. You’re worth it!

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Putting ourselves first is often wisest, especially when wishing to help others.  As we hear from a flight attendant on every airline flight, we must put the oxygen mask over our own nose and mouth before assisting our children or others around us. So when we neglect our own needs in the service of others, we will not be able to do it for long. We must refill our own cup if we wish to share generously with others. Here’s a good piece by Marc and Angel: An Open Letter to Those who Always Put Themselves Last. You’re worth it!

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Adachi Museum of Art in Yasugi, Shimane prefecture, Japan
日本語: 足立美術館。所在地は島根県安来市

One thing we must do for ourselves is cope as well as we can with stress. Avoiding stress is impossible, but drowning in it is usually avoidable. What can we do to minimize stress so it is less toxic and destructive to our lives and those who care about us and those who may need our help? We’re all worth it.

  • Breathe deeply and mindfully to reduce anxiety; it works!
  • Eat nutritiously and regularly; starvation is no virtue.
  • Sleep at least 6 hours every night, but no more than 8 is best.
  • Exercise at least 3 days a week and walk on the other days.
  • Practice your spiritual or religious beliefs sincerely and often.
  • Meditate, do yoga, pray or seek peace and beauty, as in the zen garden above.
  • Live your values, which means understanding what they are.
  • Give and receive love, affection and kindness freely.
  • Seek help for your own problems: therapy, medical treatment or expert advice.
  • Consider adopting a pet if your circumstances permit; they enrich our lives.
  • Don’t sweat the small stuff (most is), pick your battles and put down the bat.

Moses Sumney is a recent musical discovery of mine, thanks to a video in a GQ article about Brad Pitt. The article is good, and Moses Sumney is definely “Worth It.”

Namasté

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Community & Friendship’s Delight

Are you a member of a community? We belong to several and are very grateful for them. Quincy Square, Pinecrest, Friends of Bill W, and more. Here is a glimpse into a wonderful, warm, community I would love to join, if I were close by. But then, perhaps I already am….

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delighted sitting Buddhas ~d nelson

Dear WordPress Community, and Friends on the path,

So easily mind goes here, then goes there.
The mind can go in a thousand directions
including thinking that it’s alone.
But, with mindfulness, concentration & insight
we can remember the path upon which we’re stepping.
On this path are also countless beings supporting us,
at this moment, some of them are of the human-type.

delightfully recycling, together in Deer Park

I’m reminded of so many elders and others
who are isolated and feeling lonely right now.
They wish so much to be with other human beings.
I’ve had these feelings arise, myself
and I’m only almost an elder.
Perhaps you’ve longed for human companionship, also.

delightful flower

I’m offering a bow of gratitude for all the friends who came
joyfully together on retreat with me recently.
It felt very comforting, connected and safe to be vulnerable…

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Your Weekly Diversion, Week 9

 

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This week has brought the usual ups and downs, plus a deep down or two. Friends and family haves lost loved ones to death, and others have disappeared off the radar screen. Hearts are hurting. This tune by Holly Macve taps into that feeling, even if the words are rather dark and troubling.

But the sun has continued to shine and the birds have pursued their true loves with raucous and reckless abandon. We’ve seen and heard the noisy mating dances this week of boat-tailed grackles, graceful tricolored herons, and mockingbirds. Ah, Spring!

One of our downs: The post office misplaced the overnight mailer we sent to the accountant with all the tax documents. But we were able to speak to the postmaster who found it, with no idea why it was never delivered nor why it hadn’t been sent back to us. It was delivered that very day. So a down followed by a giddy up!

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Image courtesy of Dustin’ Shelves

Couldn’t resist that one!

Political highs and lows abound. The crazy continues but keeps running into roadblocks, thanks to highly principled jurists,  determined public servants and indefatigable civil rights advocates.

Some deserve more diversions than others, and all my followers and friends certainly do!

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Searching for ways to become more emotionally strong? Eric Barker provides some useful questions to ask ourselves, ups and downs notwithstanding. I’ve shared this with clients this week.

Hawaiian musician Kalani Pe’a provides the gentle swaying of this week’s closing number. You might find yourself transported to a beautiful Hawaiian island, kissed by the sun and gentle breeze and tantalized by the scent of its flowers as you listen.

Namasté

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Your Weekly Diversion, Week 8

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So how was your week?

Here in SW Florida we’ve been experiencing close proximity to a brushfire that devastated 7500 acres of pine scrub and palmettos and created a huge, mushrooming column of choking smoke that hung about for days. Only four rural structures were destroyed, and thankfully no one was hurt, but that smoke was epic. Here’s what we saw from our driveway on Tuesday.

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Collier County brushfire 3/7/17

The Collier County fire paled by comparison to the conflagration in Washington DC spawned by hot air, smoke and mirrors, hubris, hypocrisy, and paranoia. And, no, it isn’t the same on both sides.

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Photo courtesy of Travel Wires

Now for your diversions. Column of impressive smoke, you say? Italians can claim the prize, produced by Mount Etna this month.

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After all these fiery natural phenomena and irrational political bombast, I needed some good news. A man lost his beloved parrot. Thanks to an implanted ID chip, the parrot was found years later and reunited with his owner. You’ll have to read this to learn the change the parrot exhibited upon his return.

 

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Here’s another feel good diversion. When her dad wouldn’t do it, a business leader walked a lesbian bride down the aisle.

And I wouldn’t leave you without some good music. My cousin from Knoxville, Tennessee shared one of her favorite artists with me this weekend when she and her sister came for a fun visit. Here is Amos Lee and “Southern Girl.”

 

Namasté

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Blur: Serial Fiction, Part 4

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“I want a drink of water!” said a little voice by the door and her mom’s boyfriend Bill pulled back his hand and jumped up from the side of the bed in a flash. “G’night, Michelle” he muttered and went out to help Tommy with his drink.

Thank god for little brothers, she thought, switching on the bedside lamp and rushing to shut the door. It wouldn’t help to lock it because the lock could be popped easily with one of those funny little keys in the junk drawer, or even an unbent paper clip.

The last few weeks had been a blur–hospital, funeral, relatives, refrigerator overflowing with food from strangers, missing school then throwing herself into schoolwork to miss the drama, and now dealing with Bill who was one weird dude. Kissed her on the lips when she said goodnight to them a few nights ago, hand on her shoulder, huge eye contact. He kept saying she should be a model, but then he was a freelance photographer. Or so he said.

What was with her mom anyway? Ever since Tommy was born she’d been like a different person. She’d pushed her dad away with yelling and crying and acting crazy until he left, and in the three years since she’d brought home a parade of guys. Bill was just the latest loser to walk through the front door and appear at breakfast after a few so-called dates.

She pushed her dresser in front of her door. It would probably fall over if he could push the door open, but at least she could wake up and get out of bed. She searched her room for a potential weapon if he ever ambushed her like that again. She picked up a big Mickey Mouse figurine from a trip to Disney World. It was made of heavy resin and she loved it dearly. Her dad had bought it for her before the word divorce had ever been spoken in her presence. It would hurt if she had to hit somebody with it. She moved it from the dresser to her night table.

She grabbed her cellphone and texted her friend Amanda. Maybe she could go over there after school and then spend the night. She tapped out a quick question and got an enthusiastic answer back immediately. So that was settled. Amanda would ask her mom and tell her in the morning, and she’d wait to text her mom at work. It was easier than dealing with her face to face. She stuffed a clean t-shirt and underwear in her backpack and started to feel better.

Sleep was nowhere to be found, no matter how long she lay in the bed, so finally she moved the dresser, listened in the hallway for sounds of life but heard nothing, and walked quietly into the kitchen. She found an opened package of Oreos. She was about to stuff some into the pocket of her robe, but thought better if it when she saw there was another unopened package behind it. So she took the whole opened package and hurried back with it to her room. After putting it in a drawer of her night table, she went back in and got a can of Diet Coke, just as her mom opened her door and walked into the kitchen.

“Michelle? Can’t sleep?”

“I was thirsty,” she said, grateful to have stashed the cookies already. Not that her mom would care if she ate them but she wanted to eat them in private. Her mom would probably pull out the milk and want to sit down with her for a late night snack and a talk.

“Well, okay, but at least take a caffeine-free can, so you can get to sleep.”

“Sure,” she said as she switched the can, and mumbling “goodnight,” she hurried back to her room before a conversation could start. That mother-daughter talk might be okay later, but tonight she wanted to keep her thoughts and feelings about her mom’s creepy boyfriend to herself. Her outrage smoldered white hot, and it made her feel strong. She wanted to keep it and nurture it and use it when the time was right.

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For the Daily Post

Lush

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Artist unknown, courtesy of Metropolitan Museum of Art

“How was school today, Michelle?” Her mom was dishing up her casserole of the day as she spoke.

“That’s too much!”

“You need to eat enough or you’ll lose more weight.” Her face scrunched up as she extended the plate across the table.

“You can’t make me eat more than I want!” She took it but had no intention of stuffing herself. She didn’t even like her mom’s cooking. Mushy dishes of overcooked pasta with some kind of cheese on top.

“You used to love my tuna-noodle surprise!” Her little brother Tommy giggled and said, “Sa-prise!”

“Whatever!” She poked at the heap with her fork and began picking out the peas and putting them into her mouth one by one.

“Young lady, don’t be rude to your mother!” Bill glared at her. She studiously avoided his gaze and kept her face a mask. He was a jerk. She didn’t know what her mom saw in him. She wanted to yell at him to leave her the fuck alone, but that would make him look at her with his creepy smile.

“Bill, remember what I said.” Her mom looked at him, darting her eyes away from the table. Trying to play peacemaker, probably. Why was this guy over here all the time anyway? She knew he was staying over nights but they always acted as if he’d stopped by for breakfast early in the morning. In the same clothes, riiight!

She pushed the food around, nibbled at the pieces of tuna she could separate out from the goop and noodles. When her mom and Bill got into a heated discussion about how he had no right to discipline her kids, she slipped out of her chair and using her paper napkin, in one quick motion swept the food into the garbage.

Sitting on her bed doing homework she felt at peace for the first time since she got home. The girls she knew said they hated homework, but she loved getting lost in the books, in the math problems, the history lessons, the American and English literature and the science. She also loved the A’s. Her good grades were something that belonged to her and not to anyone else.

She heard Tommy having his bath down the hall, Mom playing with him with bath toys while trying to clean behind his ears. Michelle gave him his bath sometimes. It was okay. If Bill ever volunteered to help him, she’d quickly volunteer and do it before he could get into the small bathroom. She thought maybe he was probably a perv.

They were reading Huckleberry Finn in English right now, and she loved the adventures he had on the river. Where were his people who should have watched after him? He could just take off and no one even looked for him. She thought this might be nice. She knew that there were a lot of bad people out there, though, and runaways who went to New York often ended up turning tricks for some skeevy pimp just to have a meal and somewhere to sleep.

The house was quiet now and she yawned. A quick trip to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth and she got into bed. She turned out the light and lay there trying to let go of her worries about the family. Even though her parents had divorced last year, her dad had always been there. She could call him, and every other weekend she’d stayed at his apartment and they’d done fun stuff like going to museums or shopping or to the movies. Now he was gone, dead and buried just a few weeks ago, and she wondered what was her life going to be like.

There was a creak in the hall and she sat up, listening intently. She saw the dark form of Bill in her doorway and get larger as he came in.

“I just came in to say goodnight, and tell you I’m sorry I told you off at the table.” He sat on the bed. “I want your mom to be okay, and her life is hard right now.”

She shrank to the other side of the bed, not wanting to say anything and wishing he’d just go.

Then she felt him touch her hair and heard him whisper, “Your curls are so…lush.”img_0116

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For the Daily Post

Have You Heard?

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As she walked down the long hall to French class, her head felt crowded with the possibilities. What if she gets a brain tumor? What if her mom marries her skeevy, loser boyfriend? What if she fails today’s French quiz after missing so much school, between hanging out at the hospital, and then the wake and funeral? It had felt to her sort of as if everyone had been staring at her as she walked from the bus. Could they tell she was now different than everyone else?

Asseyez vous, mes élèves!” sang out Mme Pierce at the front of the room as Michelle slid into her chair and stuffed her backpack onto the rack under the seat. For the next 20 minutes she pored over the questions and checked her answers. It actually wasn’t that hard.

Merci bien, Mademoiselle Harris,” said Mme Pierce, adding softly, “Comment ça va?” with a gentle smile as she came down the row collecting papers. She shrugged, tried to smile but it felt more like a sneer, and she looked away. She felt a weird sensation, almost like nausea, but more like the homesickness she felt at sleep-away camp.

“Écoutez!” From the front of the room, Mme Pierce enthusiastically launched into the lesson of the day.

She turned to the page in the book they were covering but her mind wandered. Just this morning as she was opening her locker, one girl whispered to another across the hall, “Have you heard that Michelle Harris’s dad just died of a brain tumor?”

Her face burned now with the memory. How lame! No one had said a single word to her this whole day. Except for Mme Pierce. Maybe she actually cared. A tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto the textbook.

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Namasté

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For the Daily Post

Your Weekly Diversion, Week 2

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Howdy, ya’ll. Well, we’ve made it through another week of  crazy news and stressful circumstances, so here’s what I’ve been noting down this week for you to enjoy or learn from.

First you might be interested in the latest from Martin & Company. Back in the 70s I knew a guy who worked there, and he told me employees got to make their own guitar.

Now, did you know that President Barack Obama published three (3) scholarly articles in esteemed journals this month alone? Me neither, and I’ve scanned them, and they’re pretty impressive. No other sitting president has done this, I believe. Boy, do I miss him!

It looks like any official efforts by the United States to stem climate change aren’t going to happen in the next four years, but as I posted last week, Forbes Magazine published this great article telling us what each of us can do, so let’s do our part. By the way, check out how many scientists have decided to run for office since January 20, 2017. Cool, right?

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Photo by Troy Dillard, courtesy of Lion’s Roar

As a Buddhist, I am very grateful that my people turned out in women’s marches all over the world last Saturday. Check this out. That’s the very cool abbot Roshi Pat Enkyo O’Hara of the Village Zendo in the pussy hat, which you’ll see when you scroll through the article.

And I want to leave you with your feet tapping and your heart soaring so let’s hear it for the indomitable Carole King who re-released this for the Women’s March she attended in the Northern Tier. She offers this song, “One Small Voice” to us all free to stream and download.

 

Namasté

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Success

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She leaned her forehead against the cold metal of her locker, wondering what she should do next. Mrs. Carter said she could go home, but her mother would be at the hospital and her little brother would be at the day care. A bell rang and kids came streaming out of classroom doors and flowed past her laughing and talking, clutching their books, animated and unaware of her. The polished floors squeaked with the rubber of their sneakers. She turned away and fumbled with the lock, failing to get the combination right until the third try. As the door opened, her mirror swung into view and she saw her face. Skin pale and wan, eyes rimmed red, hair curling wildly as it always did, mouth grimly set and devoid of color. She pulled out her backpack and found her makeup bag. She grabbed the silvery pouch, shoved the backpack deep into the locker and slammed the door. Just as she turned on her heels to head for the girls’ bathroom, she bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“No prob,” said a towering guy with bad skin and a nice voice. “My bad.”

“It’s okay,” she said and tried to smile at the boy she’d never seen before. He wore a varsity jacket. Basketball. No surprise being he was so tall. “See you,” she added, hurrying to the bathroom to get out of the awkwardness.

“I sure hope so,” came the voice as she pushed open the door and almost ran in.

She set her makeup bag on the counter and took another look at herself. The pallor was gone and her cheeks were as pink as if she’d already put on her blusher. She leaned against the counter, wondering what she should do next. It wasn’t going to be an easy day. She put her hands through her long hair, combing the stubborn curls with her fingers. She’d been brought to the office to take a call from her mother. They had this stupid rule about cells in the classroom, and she’d had hers confiscated too many times to bring it out to check for texts or leave the ringer on.

Yesterday her dad had had brain surgery and they’d all been there, except for Tommy who was too little to be allowed in. Mom, her boyfriend Bill, her aunt Mary and Mom’s best friend Alice. Dad always said they’d had a friendly divorce, and she supposed this was proof. The doctor had come out in his green scrubs, just like on tv, cap on his head and mask down around his neck. The surgery was a success, he’d told them. They’d gotten the tumor and he had an excellent chance to recover fully.

Dad had looked really funny last night as they wheeled him from post-op to recovery, wearing what looked like a big white shower cap on his head. He’d smiled at her and she’d squeezed his hand, and he’d told them he felt great.

“See you, kid!” He’d said with that funny, crooked smile.

And then Mom was leaning in to give him a sort of hug and kiss him, and they’d all said, “See you!”

But that was yesterday. Today he wasn’t doing too well, Mom said with tears in her voice. Something had gone wrong. He was unconscious and they weren’t telling her anything but acting like it was really bad. His face was swollen, her mom had said.

“You can come,” she said, “but I don’t want you to feel you have to. If something at school today is important, stay. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

She played that over as she put some gloss on her lips and pressed them together. Yeah right. If anything changed she’d be pulled out of class again. Forget that. And she took her things and walked out and headed for her locker. Opened it in a flash, stuffed the pouch into her backpack, swung it onto her shoulder, and slammed the locker closed.

She strode down the hall, oblivious to anyone else around, and out the front door of the school. The sun was shining fiercely. She rummaged into her backpack and pulled out her Metrocard and her cell.

“Mom? I’m coming up there. Tell Dad I’m coming, okay?

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For The Daily Post

Meditating to the Rhythms of the Palms and Opening Our Hearts to those in Need

Every day I sit to meditate, except on those days when I have too much pain or fatigue to do anything but lie down. The practice has brought me great peace, calm and even moments of joy. I highly recommend it. I love to meditate to silence, but this is not always possible, so I find nature sounds or subtle music that doesn’t distract to accompany my sessions.

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Maui Beach

Recently I discovered an album on Amazon Music called Hawaiian Spa and I really enjoy the sounds.

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I haven’t been able to locate a YouTube of any of it online, so I’ll share this Amazon Prime link where you can hear it, or order it for yourself.

And if you can’t access Prime, you can also listen to this instead, with lovely music and calming Hawaiian scenes to enjoy as you relax.

Ahhh.

 

Now, if your stress has melted away and you feel pretty good, here’s a way you can help someone else feel good, too! My dear cousin Paula’s son Brian and daughter-in-law Amber lived in Gatlinburg, Tennessee until a couple of days ago when the massive wildfires there totally destroyed their house. They need so much help, escaping with little more than the clothes on their back and their three kitties. If you can help even a little, here is the link to their GoFundMe page.

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Brian York and Amber Hosea

I and my family thank you from the bottom of our hearts for the generosity of all who pitch in to help Brian and Amber.

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