Blossoms Around Town


Rhubarb from a single plant squeezed into a corner

We hear the stories of a the tragedy unfolding in Japan, and our hearts cannot help but cry out. This is a wonderful aspect of humanity. A friend sent me an insightful article from Caroline Myss in which she very articulately lets all her readers know why we need to work to ensure that we do not have nuclear weapons (and, I would add, new nuclear power) with which I wholeheartedly agree.
The unfolding tragedy also drives home for me how important it is that we speak out against the wars in Iraq, and Afghanistan, and on the verge in Libya and for sustainable environmental policies. On the 11th of March, I wrote this in my journal: “Mother Nature is wild and fierce no matter how much control we try to exert. I pray that a nuclear disaster does not follow. U.S. military is working with [later note: I think that was just an offer] the Japanese to share experience and skill to get in back up power to bring water in to cool the reactors. Peaceful military work, I am behind. Some fearful reflection of Hiroshima.”
My question is this: why are we sending money to those living in the third largest economy in the world (Japan’s own citizens are reportedly wondering why their government is not doing more to help–sort of how people like us wondered and may still be wondering about the lack of assistance from the government of our wealthy country after Katrina)? We are denying money on a societal level to help those in the poorest countries or perhaps are not making offerings on an individual level (or not speaking to our elected officials about such topsy-turvy, anti-compassion policies?) Why do we send our hearts and prayers to those suffering from a sudden natural disaster, but forget to do so for the tens of thousands and their families our own country has killed or wounded? Why do we spend or allow to be spent in our name billions on killing, but let it be determined that we do not have millions on aid for the suffering or for enhancing life through the arts, education, taking care of our cities, our parks, the natural beauty around us?
I, like all of you, am filled with a sense of horror and loss and love and compassion and an impulse to help. How I am choosing to use the energy of my upsurge in awareness of suffering from the unfolding disaster is to give more than I usually give to organizations that work to heal the environment and to prevent new damage by virtue of the current political policies, to seek the end of war, and to give humanitarian aid to the poorest of the poor who are dying and suffering every day at home and around the world in numbers far exceeding the sudden loss in Japan, and to support the increase in light through the arts and education and parks.
What do you think is the best way you can transmute the natural compassion you have been feeling from reading the news of Japan into making the world a better place?
For the past few years, my friend X has hosted a Day of the Dead celebration. This year, it had not been in his plans. Enough of asked, though, that he is hosting a small dinner. The Halloween of candy and costumes has not had a big draw for me; it was never made much of in my childhood. Taking the time, though, to sense the thinning between the worlds and to take time to honor my ancestors is of great meaning. Having been privileged to be invited into the festivities of the Day of the Dead has enhanced my consciousness of this time of year.
Today, when I practiced, I first reflected on those friends and family who have left their physical bodies in the past year–some quite significant to me. Thinking of those friends and family led me to think of others long gone in body, but not in spirit, and others who are still living, but with whom the connection remains only in memory. To all, I offered honor and recognition of their part in my being. Of all, like the taste of the sugared skulls that are part of the Day of the Dead, I am consciously thinking some, among whatever memories may arise unbidden, of what was sweet.
Daffodils and tulips have arrived in the shops. If you’ve forced bulbs (I didn’t this year), they are blooming (give or take a few weeks). The arrival of the Dutch flowers and the forced blooms lets us know that spring is soon to arrive. If you look carefully, you can see that the early bulbs are starting to come up. If you are lucky enough to have them growing in your garden or a neighbor (who wants to share), it is a great time to bring in forsythia and pussy willow cuttings for forcing.
How wonderful to enjoy these harbingers of spring in the last few weeks of winter. I get a similar feeling when I am given an assist to be able to do a yoga pose that will be out of reach for me to do by myself for some months or perhaps longer. When an assist opens me to an understanding of how I can grow, just as the arrival of the dutch bulbs and the forced flowers give an early reminder of spring, my heart opens. Given this inspiration, this understanding of the possibility of growth and flowering, I am inspired to turn around and share this delight with others. How could I not want to share?
I love the Vogels’ story. It is wonderful to witness such an exquisite balance of passion and moderate living. Sometimes there is not much of a why for a thing. “I just like art,” Mr. Vogel said in 1992. “I don’t know why I like art. I don’t know why I like nature. I don’t know why I like animals. I don’t even know why I like myself.”
You may need to cut and paste this link into your browser to see the story:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/herbert-vogel-unlikely-ar
t-collector-and-benefactor-of-national-gallery-dies-at-89/2012/07/22/gJQ
ANqOf2W_story_2.html
Think of things/activities you like or which inspire you to passion. Can you really identify why you have come to have and develop certain likes or passions among multiple things all worthy of passion (as distinguished from providing after-the-fact explanations of why such things are worthy of your passionate attention and devotion of time and energy–for example, yoga)?
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.