Dangermond.org

Da Capo
By Jane Hirshfield

Take the used-up heart like a pebble
and throw it far out.

Soon there is nothing left.
Soon the last ripple exhausts itself
in the weeds.

Returning home, slice carrots, onions, celery.
Glaze them in oil before adding
the lentils, water, and herbs.

Then the roasted chestnuts, a little pepper, the salt.
Finish with goat cheese and parsley. Eat.

You may do this, I tell you, it is permitted.
Begin again the story of your life.

* * * *

The wigs are more for you than me:

We walked through the waterlogged park this morning stepping across broad puddles and breathing in the fresh, clean air. It’s supposed to storm two more days and as Tin likes to say, “It’s dropping rain outside.” Nonetheless, rain or shine, on the way home from the park we saw a rainbow and although the tests are not done on this and that to figure out that and this, what has been made clear is that into everyone’s life a little rain will fall (or sometimes dropping rain).

The question is always what is the meaning of life, and the answer is always, to live it.

So the other day I ran into an acquaintance who said, “Whoa, you were a wild thing.” And I said, “Back in the day.” At this point the idea of dancing on a table top, tripping the light fantastic sounds like anathema. Oh my. Oh my.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, in his poem “Nature,” compares the old to a child who must “leave his broken playthings on the floor” and go to bed:

So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

I’d say in the words of Rosana Rosana Dana – if it ain’t one thing, it’s another. But it’s always something. Until it ain’t.

Tin sat in his room instead of napping and ripped up a book that he loves.

How often do I want to do the same thing?

Instead, I went to two doctor’s appointments and am being recalled to one tomorrow and have another one as well as a meeting with the City about the Bridge.

I have a few books I’d like to rip up.

While I was reading about Steve Job’s petulance and brilliance, and Tin was ripping up books, dark clouds gathered and a storm broke to end all storms. The sort of thunder and lightning show that New Orleans produces oh so well.

We went to a formal party the other night held in this beautiful hall across from Loyola and were celebrating friends birthdays – milestone ones – 50 and 60 – and well the theme was dance while you can. I was sitting, unaccustomed to high heels these days, I had been going since early morning and was flat out done before I showed up at the party. But nevertheless I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Everyone loved my hair – how often do we like to hear that? Well, I had to tell everyone it was NOT my hair, or rather it was a wig. They were stunned.

This morning, I took the dogs for a long walk and saw a friend of mine rounding the Magnolia Bridge and she looked at me with my bandana and bald head and said let me give you a hug. Her hair is lush and full and looked particularly gorgeous this morning, but I wasn’t envying, no I wasn’t. I was happy for the hug. And could use more of them.

Meanwhile, a dear friend called me this morning to tell me his child isn’t well, now that is something I don’t like to hear at all. And so again I have to take this moment to say I’m grateful for the health of my child and my partner and all of my loved ones.

I went in for some tests this morning, one being my annual mammogram and due to my bald head, people were giving up their seats, and unusually nice to me, and so I have to say, there is kindness in most people and sometimes it does take that they can look at you and think to themselves, “poor woman… ” and feel better about where they are in life.

Yesterday was a master cyclone of output and little input, today a full day of input with very little output – makes me realize that no must be part of the vocabulary.

I need many more days like today – meditate, walk to the park and feed the ducks, read the New York Times, read a book (reading the Steve Jobs’ biography), nap, eat a delicious lunch of broccoli and zucchini soup with a quesadilla and a nice glass of St. Clement cabernet. Sit naked in the sun on our terrace and let my cue ball head darken up a little.

Simplify, simplify, simplify.

My favorite take away from this morning’s meditation and subsequent talk is that happiness is within us already, you don’t have to try to get it.

In the dharma talk today, the zen teacher said to leave the slights with the people who offered them, because it is their pain.

I thought of this yesterday as I encountered someone who never has enough opportunities to say unkind things to me. I encountered it the other day when someone wrote a snarky reply to a Facebook post. You sort of know this but it is a good reminder – if someone is deliberately hurting you, it is because they feel pain.

And if someone is unintentionally hurting you, it is because they are numb to your existence.

Isn’t it high time for a little tenderness?

Yesterday was a psycho day from start to finish much as I tried to avoid it – there it was. Zumba to Pitot to Shotgun Tour to Crawfish Boil to Formal Party – I was swaying by 9PM not from drink but from severely impacted inability to simplify my life.

So today, a no brainer, I walked to the Zen temple down the street and meditated for two hours. I came out of this sensory deprived state to find birds singing glorious tunes, the sun already high and bright, and a body of water that I don’t understand fully why I am so attached to – Bayou St. John.

I walked along the bayou on the way home, feeling transcendent and transparent in a good way.

I knew right away that today would be different than yesterday.

“Can I touch it?”

“It comes back full and beautiful. At least mine did after cancer and chemo.”

“Mommy, I like your head.”

“It makes your eyes stand out.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“That’s pretty sexy.”