Green, Red, Yellow

I was at a meeting at another agency that was built in the years when civil service was a respected nd honored activity. The garden is clearly maintained, but I have never seen anyone in it, and wonder whether entrance by anyone other than maintenance is permitted. Does the solitary air of the garden make it feel more personal and sweet? Or does it seem isolated and less intriguing because of the absence of people?
I wonder whether people who are naturally drawn to meditate would be the ones who would answer yes to the first question and no to the second.
Last night, at the invitation of my massage therapist, I attended the third DC Ladies Arm Wrestling tournament at the American Legion Hall on Capitol Hill. For those of you who know me–or suspect from reading my blog that you know me to some degree–going to the American Legion Hall for an evening of betting on arm-wrestling might seem just a teensy-weensy bit out of character, perhaps even something beyond anything I could have “dreamt of in my philosophy.” Not so into wrestling or costumes or betting or bad beer or anything loud. I am, though, completely into norm-bending, outrageous manifestations of spirit, of which this certainly and rollickingly is one.
The moon had risen in all her glory when I left Willow Street Yoga in Silver Spring (from a talk with Dr. Manoj Chalam about archetypes yesterday evening and headed for the metro home. I thought about how the moon shines fully no matter what is below: a pristine mountain lake, a construction site, a palace garden, a land devastated by one of the Four Horsemen, or the street in front of my house. What I think is the goal of most “spiritual” practice is to find a place where, being able to see the light all the time, one can live with uncertainty and challenge and have a greater capacity to serve from one’s unique place.
The excessive dryness and unseasonable warmth make me anxious. Sixties fahrenheit and dry may feel good in San Francisco, but here it just is out of place for the existing flora and fauna. Still, I made sure to get out and enjoy the exquisite afternoon that it was. I find the skies of drought achingly beautiful and mysterious.
It was also nice, but peculiar to go out into the backyard and pick nearly a pint of ripe grape tomatoes.