TOWARD THE EQUINOX

Some of the kids are out back in the Epiphany Schoolyard, masked. It's a cheerful site though I am worried for them all. I still believe we opened commerce too soon and may have set ourselves back to five months ago. Only time will tell. A second wave of viral positives and the flu season soon to be added on. I worry, parents worry, teachers worry. Still, it is a pretty site friends. Looking East out my front window to see the sun, breathing deep the crisp fresh air of Fall.

Longing for freedom, I turn back to another time and place and sing along just as I did back then.

In the evening, I sat with my Sangha via Zoom. After the "Heart Sutra and the dedicatios, we did a sort of 'Council' Session. Each participant gets 1-3 minutes to share what concerns them and how the Dharma is aiding them in being with that. A few take aways-1. "Refuge is everywhere". 2."Change Perspective" to others also suffering" 3. "Don't separate from even those that disagree with you." 4. "When everything is unraveling, be a student, not a victim." Then the four vows and finally, Sensei Chodo read: "The Peace of Wild things" by Wendel Berry

When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

SUNDAY

MOUSE at 6 a.m. scooting from center room radiator toward the hall behind the bookcase. Drat. I'm quite convinced it's the same mouse the super plugged holes about back in May and I saw once or twice in June. I still think it may be a gerbil escaped when someone moved away. Time will tell. Meanwhile I fussed till 10 a.m. despite I'd been up all night obsessed with RBG and the vultures circling. Insomniak and worried for the worlds woe, wondering where would I go if I needed to go.

Missed a call offering tech support while sound asleep at 3:30 (((sigh))). Hours to come round.

Sunset glow to the East

Took my Temperature and checked Oxegyn levels and pulse. No sighn of illness but huge fatique. I couldn't focus at all and finally called my tech friend at 9:30 but too late. So I walked around the nearby blocks to clear my brain and get the stiffness out of my bones. Adopted pot (flash), new statue at the church plaza placed too low to be appreciated and always one or more homeless tucked into doorways (((sigh))).

Nothing lost-Nothing gained. Peace in the valley of my heart. Tomorrow is another day-probably.

RBG

Just days before her death, as her strength waned, Ginsburg dictated this statement to her granddaughter Clara Spera: "My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed."

WATCH https://www.pbs.org/weta/washingtonweek/episode/supreme-court-justice-ruth-bader-ginsburg%E2%80%99s-life-and-legacy

WEDNESDAY-THURSDAY-FRIDAY

There's sun at 9 a.m. WEDNESDAY, but its not made it up over the buildings yet. Sad times in the news as usual lately and hard times too.

7 p.m. I spent a half hour trying to get in to my Zendo Zoom Wesdnesday session with the cell phone gift set to do just that-failed and frustrated I've been using the phone just for Zen meetings for months and most of the time it works. Because it loses it's charge, Ive been turning off entirely at the end of each session and last time I signed off was Monday. Who knows. It is beyond me tonight. Now watching the storm damage in Florida and Alabama. Winds up to 105 mph, bridges collapsing and high water beyond bearing and the fires are still burning in the West. Meanwhile, I am safe and still careful regarding protections from the Virus-masks, gloves, hand washing and staying close to home-I have no problems to speak of even though I am speaking. BLAH-BL-BLAH-SIGH. Meanwhile THURSDAY arrived chilly and grey.

Neighborhood Walk Tiny dog, desperate for attention is ignored by her caretaker in favor of his cell phone.

Another house with wisteria vine and Ivy.

Bravo Bob Woodward.

1:30 a.m. FRIDAY entered after an hour long talk, well, more like a listen to my dear friend Michaels entertaining and amazing memories and despite my suggestion he get a tape recorder so that later when he has peace and time he might write them up. I reatlly think he might have a book worth reading. Last bit, we spoke of the resurrection and his sisters beautiful photographs of her emerging butterfly, which he said he would post. It's a potent metaphor-So then I told him about process-How does a caterpillar rearrange itself into a butterfly? What happens inside a chrysalis or cocoon? First, the caterpillar digests itself, releasing enzymes to dissolve all of its tissues. If you were to cut open a cocoon or chrysalis at just the right time, caterpillar soup would ooze out. But the contents of the pupa are not entirely an amorphous mess. Certain highly organized groups of cells known as imaginal discs survive the digestive process. Before hatching, when a caterpillar is still developing inside its egg, it grows an imaginal disc for each of the adult body parts it will need as a mature butterfly or moth—discs for its eyes, for its wings, its legs and so on. In some species, these imaginal discs remain dormant throughout the caterpillar's life; in other species, the discs begin to take the shape of adult body parts even before the caterpillar forms a chrysalis or cocoon. Some caterpillars walk around with tiny rudimentary wings tucked inside their bodies, though you would never know it by looking at them. WATCH (10 minute Video)

2 p.m. What was one has become 5. They fight. Sadly, I have stopped leaving sunflower seeds. The screen is closed. Four of them now occupy the window sills of an empty apartment for rent across the alley

"Connie" stands guard on my sill.

This is hard for me, but I know what happens. If I feed her, they fly over and a fight ensues with flapping wings and threat chortles and all the seed falls into the alley. Eventually neighbors will complain and the super will have to get rid of them. Pigeons are hated in this city by landlords and many other people. Not by me (((sigh))) After several days they will fly away and begin to look elsewhere. I'll carry seed in my poscket when I go out and descretely drop some when I see them in the neighborhood. "Pigeons are as ubiquitous in the world’s cities as bad traffic, buskers, and late-night takeaways. London alone is estimated to contain more than a million pigeons, inhabiting the many parks and gardens that crisscross its 1,000 square miles. Given these vast numbers – and the fact that an urban pigeon seldom lives for more than three or four years – it’s a wonder why they are not strewn across city streets. There are several possible reasons for this.'-READ https://theconversation.com/where-are-all-the-dead-pigeons-98874 "There is no spiritual practice more profound than being kind to one's family, neighbors, the cashier at the grocery store, an unexpected visitor, the con in the next cell, a stray cat or dog, or any other of the usually 'irrelevant' or 'invisible' beings who may cross our paths in the course of a normal day. Certainly there are spiritual mysteries beyond description to explore, but as we mature, it becomes clear that those special experiences are only meaningful when they arise from and return to a life of ordinary kindness." -Bo Lozoff-

Watching the BBC News and none of it is good. Meanwhile the setting sun is reflected on buildings in the East of my Manhattan Window View.

TUESDAY

9.15.2020 The best news is that Grace Forest is back on the Hill as of yesterday https://windthread.typepad.com/windthread/2020/09/my-entry-13.html and was back again todday https://windthread.typepad.com/windthread/2020/09/my-entry-15.html Meanwhile I woke early to phone Massachusetts wishing my dear friend Happy Birthday

Spent time on Face book reading news of the world and posting about fires and potential floods, skipping most of the Administration posts and horrified by the presidents hubris, usery and dangerous intentions.

Then had a long nap to 3p.m. Rising to check the calendar in case I'd lost track of days.

I've gotten lonely actually, but I fill in with the virtual and time passes and memory brings longing https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3365260245927126723/8103246041710081231?hl=en

MONDAY

9.14.2020 7 a.m.-Manhattan Window View

3 p.m. and I'm still sitting at this desk. Time to mobilize.

5 p.m Our local Post office

6 p.m. Zendo Zoom live session with Barbara Bonner "Inspiring Forgiveness"-This video is from another source but will serve as an introduction to the book (58 minutes)

LINK https://barbarabonner.org/books/

SUNDAY

September 13th 2020 and overcast day and cool. Exhausted by the real world conivances and consequences.

I walked out, Northward on 2nd Avenue to 30th Street, then Westward thinking I might shop at Trader Joe. The line was formidable so I just kept going West to Park Avenue and then South to 22nd Street where another market was uncluttered and had all I needed, then slowly back to 21st Street and up three flights to perform the cleaning of shoes, mask and gloves and all the new purchases before putting them away. Then Supper. That one shot of the house with the great wisteria where I paused and imagined living there high up. Birds were twittering their evening messages within it's bounty and the air spoke to me of fast approaching Fall.

My friend Grace Forest is safe enough for now. Evacuated with all her critters to a place near Paradise then to her doughters at Oroville. I am doing a rain dance for them, for the great trees, the wildlife and for all the exhausted fire fighters. Goodnight

BEFORE and AFTER NINE

Saturday the 12th of September with a promising cloud, lots of cool wind and relative silence. How many months since the pandemic appeared here? How long can we endure? Endless battles over our heads and under our feet, the planetary power wars, lies and truths float like sand across a desert of social distancing, mask wearing-or not wearing and and and and. What? I'm in the last stages of my time here, perfectly provided with all one might ever need but the simple human interconnect and unable to just walk out, make plans, have goals. This morning I burned a pot (again). A dog barks nearby.

"Ever since I found out that earth worms have taste buds all over the delicate pink strings of their bodies, I pause dropping apple peels into the compost bin, imagine the dark, writhing ecstasy, the sweetness of apples permeating their pores. I offer beets and parsley, avocado, and melon, the feathery tops of carrots. I’d always thought theirs a menial life, eyeless and hidden, almost vulgar—though now, it seems, they bear a pleasure so sublime, so decadent, I want to contribute however I can, forgetting, a moment, my place on the menu." -- "Feeding the Worms" from Bonfire Opera by Danusha Laméris, © 2020

As the day moved forward I gave up. I mean, I slept again and again till dark. I've eaten some leftovers, listened to the younger tenants run downstairs on marble steps to get out for their evenings and read through face book posts feeling disconnected to connecting. Yet here I am typing on the blog as if I were actually connecting to beings out there somewhere. Aren't we all really just talking to ourselves.

Last night there was a Zendo session via Zoom--"The Wisdom Sangha" is a twice monthly meeting with over sixties. I spent the session listening to others. There was a potent sitting meditation where I listened to my body. It had a lot to tell me. Perhaps I've grown accustomed to this form of connecting. I'm seeing via a small cell phone programmed to receive the Zendo sessions and given to me by a generous Zendo brother months ago. The pictures are very small, but I wear glasses and keep a magnifying glass close. I am relieved by the meditation and comforted by the virtual presences.

Now my tiny TV is on Channel 13 and a blast from the past is playing - The title of "Five Easy Pieces" refers not to the women its hero makes along the road, for there are only three, but to a book of piano exercises he owned as a child. ... When we sense the boy, tormented and insecure, trapped inside the adult man, "Five Easy Pieces" becomes a masterpiece of heartbreaking intensity.

Then--The Ghost Writer--When a successful ghostwriter, the Ghost (Ewan McGregor), agrees to finish the memoirs of Adam Long (Pierce Brosnan), England's former prime minister, his publisher assures him it's the chance of a lifetime. Instead, he begins to uncover evidence that suggests his late predecessor knew a dark secret about Lang and may have been murdered to prevent it from coming to light.

I'm done

MORNING 9.11.2020

PRECINCT MEMORIAL 8:30 A.M. UNDER MY FRONT WINDOW

HEAD OF THE PBA (LYNCH) angry about the negative present and urging that we remember the best moments.

There were lots of speakers and names of the EMC, volunteers and Police who died that day and have been dying or suffering since of complications from the exposure during the weeks of clean up were read. St. George Episcopal did the sermon. The Star Spangled Banner was sung.

AFTER ALL was SAID AND DONE

Then I constructed the previous blog post https://mscomfortzone.blogspot.com/