On the surface, I have recently seen worse ideas. At its depths, what is a mother or a founding father? What is a nation? Does a mother or a father have to have a religion? What can we do to be more inclusive and unifying rather than divisive?
Today I walked a circuit of the mineral water springs of Saratoga.
The sky emptiest of moonlight, the darkness of the absent moon of mahashivratri lets the stars reveal themselves and illuminate the fullness of possibility. That it is also the first day of meteorological Spring and was the State of the Union feels like quite a confluence.
On the way to Willow Street Yoga in Takoma Park for Joe and Natalie Miller’s yoga practice to benefit Nepal.
Last night as I waited on the metro platform at Takoma Park after yoga class, a large man in a shabby black coat came up to me and said, “happy thanksgiving.”
“Happy thanksgiving,” I replied, thinking I like Thanksgiving better than I like Valentine’s Day, even considering the somewhat unsavory roots of both holidays.
“Oops,” he said, “I meant ‘happy Valentine’s Day; I’ve been getting that wrong all day.”
“That’s OK,” I said. “Every day should be a day of thanks giving.” I had been enjoying the day fully even though I had not engaged in any Hallmark-driven behavior and was feeling fully grateful for my life and not just because of the post-yoga class glow.
“I don’t have anyone to give red roses to any more,” the man lamented. “My mother has passed; my grandma has passed. I don’t have a girl right now.”
“Your mother and grandma are still here in your heart, and they know you love them. They do not need roses,” I offered. “In fact, you have helped the world be a better place not buying any roses today. Most bouquets of roses are laden with pesticides and cut and wrapped by women in poor countries who get sick from the pesticides.” At this, a young woman watching me with commiseration lit up with a big smile. Who would start giving advice on the hazards of Valentine’s Day flowers — I restrained myself from talking fair trade chocolate — in this situation?
“You’re nice,” the man said, “what’s your name?” The metro was still not due for another eight minutes, and, being the introverted, cautious, small, middle-aged woman that I am and thus feeling a little pressured by his longing for someone to talk to, I did the verbal dance to extricate myself from the conversation and get back to the email I had been in the middle of reading. He went away peaceably, so it was alright.
At first glance, th e exhortation to love all and serve all (Ram Das has said Neem Karoli Baba gave him advice like that) may seem unreasonable and perhaps impossible.
But the exhortation to love doesn’t require liking all or associating with all or tolerating the behavior of all.
And serving all does not mean doing so without boundaries. Sometimes a thoughtful refusal or a limit on giving others what they ask for is the highest service we can offer.
