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/

9.11.2001

MANHATTAN MEMORY That morning I woke to this news: Nineteen years ago, 19 men trained by al-Qaeda carried out a coordinated terrorist attack on the United States that had been planned for years. The attackers simultaneously hijacked four large passenger aircraft with the intention of crashing them into major landmarks in the United States, inflicting as much death and destruction as possible. Three of the planes struck their targets; the fourth crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. In a single day, these deliberate acts of mass murder killed nearly 3,000 human beings from 57 countries. More than 400 of the dead were first responders, including New York City firefighters, police officers, and EMTs. It was one of the most-covered media events of all time, and after a decade, the images are still difficult to view. These attacks and the global reaction to them have profoundly shaped the world we live in, so it remains important to see the images and remember just what happened on that dark day.

Screen Shots...What I witnessed on Television that morning

The image imprinted forever within my memory bank.

The falling Man is a famous photo and this just a blurry screen shot, but Imagine...that moment when he dives for his freedom knowing it is forever. I imagine it when I think of him and my heart is full of of understanding and love

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Falling_Man

READ https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2011/09/911-the-day-of-the-attacks/100143/

NEW DAY EVERY DAY

9.10.2020

Rain on and off and with enough sleep I weather well.

My thoughts are with friends in California. Grace with goats and other animals evacuated to a parking lot, Nancy finding it hard to breathe and one other stressed but safe. I am weeping for the wild life and all those ancient trees too. Lost homes and futures for all beings. Deeply sad. Climate is our ISSUE.

LOST my BALANCE

9.9.2020 Almost 10 p.m. I just struggled (again) to find out how to center text and change text font and color (to no avail). New Blogger has me frazzled and I know others feel the same. Meanwhile It's been a discouraging day. Don't know why. Perhaps weather, or just because. I walked in the graying evening to a local store for some sun-chips. That cloud seems friendly. But, Is it? Our friend Grace and Goats +++ were evacuated to a parking lot and I worry for them, though worry is of no real use. Another friend is headed back to the hospital for cancer treatment. Still, worry is wasted energy. (((sigh)))

Got depressed seeeing the bars full of masklessness and spilled out to the streets. I'm worried about the virus, the election, the planet and my worn knees. When the mail arrives, it's all about too many wonderful organizations I care for-needing money. Thousands of asylum seekers are evacuated from Lesbos and it's burning to the gtound. I'm so weary for no good reason. Chalk it up to lack of sleep.

I got some sanity from 6 to 7:30 p.m. meditation with my Zendo (Zoom). Then I watched the news. BIG MISTAKE since I already knew most of it from NPR earlier today. Fires and Ice melt, suffering from sea to sea and across the globe.

Politics is too political. Chess is easier, at least it's got rules. I'm back to 'Tomorrow is another day.'

SOME GOATS-A GULL AND A FRIEND

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 8TH 202o

First to the post pffice with a package for John Marcus and another for Matthew A.

Then the crosstown bus heading East

East River Park to meet my buddy Fred (no photo) and there wer goats cleaning up the underbrush. Joy. They eat everything including poison Ivy without harm to themselves. The perfect lawn mower for sanity.

All Manner of flora-golden Sunflower, Correopsis, Chicweed, queen annes lace, nightshade, wonderful Pokeweed with those berries I used to use to make dye with-more but I was so busy showing them to my friend and took few photos.

Of course there was a cormorant and one gull but not many as in the past 'Where have all the sea birds gone?'

It was nice to converse in person, to share lunch, to be with an easy friend. <<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>> We'll Meet Again, Don't know where, Don't know when, but I know We'll Meet Again some Sunny Day https://youtu.be/T5C4meGkNyc

WALKING

Sunday Late Afternoon stroll to 14th Street on 1st Avenue Manhattan. Markets everywhere. Those without anything gather our discards and resell them on the street. Survival is precarious. Few are wearing masks.

Labor day...more beautiful weather.

Another day spent sleeping on and off. No labors of any consequence. Walked out for sunddown and shopped at the all night supermarket a few blocks away, empty at this hour.

Walking home again I stopped at St George church and listened to the drone of cicadas. Holy. Holy. Holy. All the wonders of just being here now.

NOTE I still dislike the new blogger but have at least been able to center photographs-not text-and no color options. Preferences thwarted. I will end this post, read others and slip back to sleep eventually. IO have a date to meet a Brooklyn friend at the East river tomorrow to share sandwiches and some catch up time.