Month: January 2017

This is not the way that I want to see the world. In fear of the political system, in hatred for the people who don’t see things as I do, in shame that I have never been able to make any great positive change in society, in grief that I can never find a way to help. I guess I have no idea how the world works.

But I know how I work. I know when I am compassionate and loving and open and fearless then my life fills with joy. I see clouds outside the window of the plane and I am forever connected to the eons of humans who were never able to see the clouds. I am connected to a majesty and magnificence in the moment. My eyes fill with the deep red light on the top of the cloud bank. I see for all those who never saw, and for those who have yet to see. Continue reading “Yet Another Plea Of Love”

I’m in Upstate New York this week, and the ground is wet, the sky silky and grey. Last night it rained, and we headed into a restaurant dodging the spouts of rainwater coming off the old buildings. Today, the morning is still and cold. I love how heavy the sky is here, like a blanket, muffling sound. Little brown birds are going crazy in the bare branches of the yard, and their movement flies incongruent with the stillness everywhere else. A fat red cardinal perches in a tall tree, reminding my rods and cones of their purpose. At 12:30, there will be a window of no rain, and I’ll walk into the little town, sneak glances into windows, maybe sit and have a cup of coffee and then head back to this cozy little house for a peaceful day of tea and kitties and my dear friend.

This Saturday at 2AM, we’ll board a bus to Washington, heading to the march there. Months ago, when it was announced, I knew I would attend. I grew up seeing images of the great civil rights marches of the 1960s, and saw how their power changed the world. When I see the footage of Martin Luther King speaking, I have always imagined that if I had been living at that time, I would have been there. How would I feel now if I had had the chance to participate in that moment of hope and hadn’t been there? When the Women’s March was announced, I imagined seeing it unfold on television, in San Francisco, and could feel how I would regret not being there. So I made plans to come out. Continue reading “To Washington, With Love”

My first weekend back from the holiday was cold and rainy and the weather was a great excuse to hole up, blankets and pug and books and magazines and tea, so much tea. My favorite kind of weekend. I set off on a two-day journey through ideas and stories, listening to podcasts, reading and writing. Making sure the pug had a good nest on the couch, his warm little body reminding me how long ago, folks used to warm a brick in the fireplace, wrap it in a blanket and put it at the foot of the bed on cold nights. I guess you could say I lived a one-dog night, all weekend.

What a luxury, to spend this time in a flight of thought through time and space. I’ve always loved reading so much. Falling into other people’s stories on a rainy afternoon is a lovely dream. I love the still bell of the quiet room, the sound of the dripping San Francisco day outside the window, the snoring pug a rumbling soundtrack. A cocoon of warmth and peace. I closed my eyes several times and wished this feeling into the world. Continue reading “Majority of One”