The daffodil bulbs I buried in the dirt of a decorative ceramic pot last Fall are actually starting to peek through! I am very excited and so hopeful! If they all bloom, it'll be one glorious bunch of brightness on my deck. So I am trying to restrain my impulse to water them, lest they drown or rot from oversolicitude. I make a daily, deliberate choice to back off, and let nature take it's course.
Choices always have consequences, so they are pretty important. Of course, many choices are rather inconsequential in the larger scheme of things. For example, my potentially water-logged or rotting daffodil bulbs would sadden only me. So, minor green thumb issues or choosing an occasional iced turtle mocha rather than a regular coffee at Caribou, matters less than the choice to BE rather than be employed (something every retiree understands); and less than the choice of an authentic hermit-paced solitary life over one perpetually hibernating in a black hole of thoughtlessness; and less than choosing to smartly flee the prospect of crushing debt rather than be overtaken by it.
But whether clandestine or transparent, choices matter to both people and plants - and animals too. Hopefully, choosing the best existential refresh key, and decisively clicking on it, will keep nasty allergies at bay, and whatever goes splat on my windshield will nourish daffodil karma forever!
People were walking themselves, their kids, their dogs. Neighbor downstairs was on her patio, summer sun visor in place making it possible for her to read in the bright sunshine. Ducks were squawking as they positioned themselves on the melting river ice. I stood on my deck, facing southwest into the sunshine, braced against the railing with eyes closed. Daylight saving time, 4:15 p.m. I noticed the gentle breeze only occasionally made the wind-chime sound above me, but strengthened sometimes and waved the flag enough for me to hear it from half a block away. A train sounded from across the river and noisely travelled south through town.
A glorious and atypical March 11 in central Minnesota.
What was I thinking? Quite a few things actually came in and out of my mind. But I tried to stay in the moment, and even wish myself to slimness as the sun washed away the cold of winter. Yes, I ought to go down for a walk in the park. But at least I was standing up here!
And I was doing something useful: I was busy being, and soaking in all the peace I could. I was mindful of the Syrians who had recently helped four journalists escape across the border to safety, leaving two of their dead colleagues behind; I thought about people I know whose health still needs to cross safe borders; I thought about some things that worry me; I realized that just wanting and praying for peace, security, health, justice (and even slimness) is not sufficient. But it is a start. Awareness, alertness, compassion, thankfulness and a discerning honest heart really can jumpstart the changes necessary for another fabulous day of limitless positive potential. Otherwise, my life is a total waste. And the gentle breeze might just as well be stagnant air.
In another month or so, when the ground thaws, there will be lots of mud, and the Minnesota mud rooms will be fulfilling their purpose. This thought came to me a day or so ago, somewhat secondarily to another thought about mud. If only all the muddy thinking apparent in current political polemics could be contained in a mud room!
The worst, for me, is the way separation of church and state gets all mixed up. And when power seeking individuals display such mendacity, cowardice and hypocrisy, well, I wonder how we can be spared their vitriol. Sure, I can switch them off at will, but they continue to make headlines. Pure hearts are proudly worn on sleeves and foul moths spew muddy waters of bigotry and incivility. Hence, muddy and tangled logic defies containment and keeps getting tracked beyond the mud room and into the house.
Usually what repels us is also something ugly within ourselves that we do not recognize. So I suppose I ought to be careful here. But I think it is safe to say that critical thinking skills can serve us well these days. If we have them, we need to hone them! If we lack them, we need to get them! It just isn't enough to quote learned scholars and saints of the past, or our country's Founding Fathers, or The Constitution , or the Bible or the Qu'ran. The proof is in the pudding, really.
Integrity, courage, compassion, truthfulness, generosity, intelligence, and holiness can be discerned any number of ways and so can foolish ambition and false religiosity. Spirituality is always more than skin deep, but inevitably surfaces in quite tangible ways that even the most ordinary alert person can recognize. But first we must scrape off, or wash off, the mud - and leave it in the mud room. Only then can we distinguish the universal freedoms at risk in our democratic society, the responsibilities we have as persons, as citizens, and the disadvantages of a pseudo-theocracy where the idol always has clay feet.
Marked with ashes today, I came home and read some good things, eg. John F. Kavanaugh's brief article "Try the Asceticism of Truth" in America, the Jesuit magazine. I fully agree with his assertion that "...spiritual wisdom...tell(s) us that asceticism of the ego ... is more important..." because just giving up things can still leave us "radically self-centered or deluded."
And then I remembered a wonderful 2006 exhibit at the Santa Monica Pier: Ashes and Snow. It was housed in "the nomadic museum", a 56,000 square-foot temporary structure constructed of 152 steel cargo containers, stacked 34 feet high. The setting, the photographic prints and the 35mm film were wonderful and very unique. The artist, Gregory Colbert, admirably creative.
So today I am reminded that the senses need to be fed and starved, or at least moderated. And ashes, snow and dust don't last. And the mythological flying elephants, too heavy for their wings, do indeed fall to earth and transform into a beautiful mountain range.
Perhaps the website and images at ashesandsnow.org can still be accessed. I will try it. (Though I do have a few cherished cards from the exhibit, maybe a friend will take a look.) And now, I'll keep striving for a sound and realistic perspective on persons, places and events. Otherwise, I'd waste the potential this day of ashes holds when it urges reflection on the stages of life, the meaning of life, and the wisdom early Christian hermits imparted: "Memento Mori."
I'm struck, with an almost blunt force trauma impact, by the wildly inconsistent thinking apparent in a single day or week or month of reported current events. True, there is always going to be a gap between our potential and actual ability to grasp and really hold onto the truth (and to reality). But evidence of mental carelessness, superficiality and plain old sloppiness sure mounts up fast these days!
One of the more astonishing things I witness is backpeddling or running-in-place by myself, another or the supposed movers and shakers out there. Admittedly, speeding backwards is a tricky (and futile) way to workout, and highly counterproductive: it burns rubber but nothing else. Everyone knows you cannot reduce an ounce of body fat by simply reading the labels, or stay sober by just thinking about it, or win the lotto without spending a buck.
So what can be done to realize our potential as consistent, logical human beings, actually capable of figuring out what adds up, or even what goes into the plus and minus columns? Clearly, it's not always reducible to a bunch of numbers. But it isn't necessarily as complex or incomprehensible as an algorithm. (I will never understand algorithms.) The core solution may be abandoning our preconceptions, our robot-like mental processes, our shyness or habitual aversion to taking a new look or looking from a new perspective.
Every genius philosopher, theologian, artist or great leader faces down their fear of being wrong sometimes. Their courageous inventiveness benefits us all, and because they dare to ask hard questions and explore the edges of what they and we already grasp, they really do open up new, wonderful frontiers. In the field of ethics, we are indebted to those who grapple with previously unimaginable scientific or medical realities instead of sticking their heads in the sand and smothering themselves. In theology, the wisely courageous application of timeless spiritual values to real-time lives reinvigorates belief. In art, creativity stuns us and beauty pitches us beyond the banal and common pursuits that swallow up our narcissistic, self-involved, consumer-driven existences.
Nevertheless, it is okay to shrink from the risks and incongruities that threaten or puzzle us as long as we remember that these challenges can be catalysts. We really must act to avert traumatic tunnel-vision and, paradoxically, unite to minimize the idiocies of mob mentalities, secular or "religious." Whatever we can legitimately do to emasculate those Good Old Boy's Clubs or broaden the vision of Single Issue extremists (on the Left and the Right) would certainly be stepping towards a place where we can all get along in one world - effectively repudiating the backbreaking craziness paralyzing and decimating our famous muscle beach.
It's good to be reminded, like the children we all are, to clean up our mess. But even when I am mindful of the scriptural alerts Jesus often gave, my unsustained spurts of energy usually result in negligible progress. The tricky and hard part, is sustained effort. And also, at least for me, the ability to shift gears, something I do more easily in my '89 Isuzu Trooper than in everyday life. The unfinished business of life never gets completely done, but I'm hoping for a calm last breath rather than a grudging last gasp! I know it is possible; I have seen it.
We certainly should watch and pray, lest the end of our journey comes as unexpectedly and perhaps as unwelcome as a thief in the night. Yet somehow it seems that only imminent, enormous, life-changing and repeated loss is what it takes to sustain the clean-up effort. Are we slow learners or what? Why live on the edge of known hazardous waste sites? But we all do it. Perhaps it's that gnawing need for instant gratification? Perhaps we know it's something else.
Well, today I got another incentive to keep at my task of cleaning, shredding, tossing, donating, selling and effectively downsizing the "stuff" of my life: Another classmate is undergoing chemo, another politician is vying for a place in the sun (at any cost), the very poor are still discounted and discarded, the 1% shamelessly flaunt their lust for power, and time marches on. There is plenty of upside-downness in every age, but keeping one's equilibrium seems particularly challenging these days. I know there will always be poor people, greedy people, evil people, hypocritical people and good people, even really holy people. Therefore, the rush of life need not overwhelm me completely, but it will unless I watch and pray that it won't.
In wonder and concern about my carbon footprint, I recently realized that this is apparently not enough. I must also consider my digital footprint and digital identity. So now I'm really in trouble: I have become curious about algorithms, the kind that have been such good tools for FaceBook's Mark Zuckerberg! What exactly is an algorithm?
I doubt that I'll ever get a handle on much of anything that might educate me about algorithms because anything more than the most basic math is beyond me. (And here I am just assuming that we're dealing with some kind of esoteric mathematical formulations.) But I think I have a loose grip on the carbon footprint / digital footprint concepts. Maybe.
We really have both, right, carbon and digital? That seems obvious. So here's what else I know: I am going to find out more, one way or another, and see what I can make of it all. Then I suppose it'll be time for a plan. Stay tuned!
