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About a Can Opener
“Lady, do you have some spare change?” asked a man sitting on a bench with eyes glassed over from one or more intoxicants, which from one of the notes in the bouquet of odors included alcohol.
“I don’t have any change,” I replied, “but would you like a peach? I just bought some.”
“No. I have my own.” After a pause, when I’d already passed him, he called out, “do you have a can opener?”
I guess his peaches were canned and that he preferred them canned to fresh.
Some Musings on Guru Purnima
This full moon is both the one called by some “guru purnima“–with rituals to honor the teacher–and also the relatively rare blue moon. I’ve been seeing lots of postings on social media about guru purnima by my friends who are engaged in the practice, study, and teaching of yoga. The variations in the postings about guru purnima are as wide as what the person believes is the guru–from recognition of a person who has been named a guru; to teachers, recognized as such; to simply the invocation of our own teacher within. Suggestions for ritual range from specific puja to just an invitation to think about the concept and to recognize those who have imparted wisdom to us that has enhanced our lives (even if we have to do a lot of work to know that).
I’ve never personally been called to have a guru (among other things, it is too counter to my unprogrammed Quaker upbringing). I do, though, have many teachers, some more formally serving in that role than others and I cheerfully honor them today.
I invite you to think about what it means to have teachers, i.e., to be a true student. How we might be living if we consciously interrelate with all around us, human and not, as both a student and teacher all of the time? What quality of listening and openness would that require? What might we be learning? What might we teach?
Shiva Lingam?
This fountain is at the main entrance (not on the Mall, but around the corner) to the Department of Labor. It is only on every once and a while, and I do not usually use this entrance, so the fountain is not a main part of my relationship to the building.
One day, a couple of years ago, when I was sitting quietly near the fountain to get some soothing energy from the sound of the water and being outside, I thought about how much it resembled a shiva lingam. Was I seeing symbols that were not intended? Was the artist pulling one over on the government by submitting a design that carried symbolism that, in 1974, would not have been acceptable to many in charge? Was the symbolism there and understood when the design was permitted to be implemented? Do the answers to any of those questions matter with the fountain and all its imagery present in all its effusion?





