a story

It was the Fourth of July and I had to take care of a few things so I could go on a big trip to California.  First on the list was to retrieve two wire cages I had used to protect the peach trees from deer.  This year the deer had knocked the cages over, stolen the peaches, and almost destroyed the trees.

As I turned the truck around and backed into the yard, a saw another problem to solve.  A possum had crawled into the compost bin to feed on my kitchen scraps and now he was stuck.  He was hanging down, suspended, some part of his body caught in between the two panels of the bin.  He looked up at me as I got out of the truck.  “Great!  Now I have to try to save you.”

I walked over to take a look and thought he had his foot caught.  I went in the house for a pair of gloves – just in case, texted my cousins asking for help, and then gathered tools.  I thought that I might be able to pop the bin apart and free him. After several attempts with varying sizes of pry bars, I discovered that I couldn’t pull it apart, and that his weight on the bin was a problem.

I went into the shed for boards and a container the height of his stuck appendage. I pushed the container as close to him as I could and then used a board to ease him up, sliding the container closer until he was resting on top.  I then saw what was caught.  It was not his foot, but instead his testicles.  At this point he was baring his teeth and drooling.  I talked calmly letting him know I meant him no harm.  I then went back to trying to pry the bin apart, but I just wasn’t strong enough. 

He was resting on boards and a container that allowed him to lay down rather than hang.  I decided I needed to walk away for a bit to think about what I could do.  I went to do another job.

Thoughts about the situation would not go away. He looked to me like he would soon be laying down to die. Without freedom, he would die slowly and sadly.   I didn’t want him to suffer and I wondered what I needed to do.  The flies were already starting to swarm around him.  Should I put him out of his misery?  I couldn’t imagine how I would do that.  Maybe I could perform an amputation.  But how would I stop the bleeding? 

My thoughts were interrupted by a phone call.  My cousins were there.  By the time, I got back to the house, the possum was free.  Bill had put on gloves and held the critter up, patting him, and talking softly to calm him.  Jeanne put muscle behind a crowbar and Bill lifted him out.  He carried him into the woods and set him on the ground.  The possum was dazed, but in a minute sauntered off into the woods.

When I got home, I used tape to cover all the cracks in the bin so no one else would get stuck.  The dharma for me in this was thinking about what part of the experience was the coiled rope and not the snake!  All in a day’s work on the farm.   

When You See Water by Alice Walker

When You See Water

By Alice Walker

When you see water in a stream

you say: oh, this is stream

water;

When you see water in the river

you say: oh, this is water

of the river;

When you see ocean

Water

you say:  This is the ocean’s

water!

But actually water is always

only itself

and does not belong

to any of these containers

though it creates them.

And so it is with you.

From The World Will Follow Joy

          Turning Madness Into Flowers

Writing Everywhere

I write everywhere.  It is impossible for me to read a book without having a conversation with the author and myself in the margins. Pencil is always at hand!  This page is from Alice Walker, over-coming speechlessness, page 17, Sangha.

Today I learned that Alice
also cried for the world
in a ritual,
a ceremony of healing
to show
that we are connected
to those we love,
the beautiful flowers,
grass,
stones,
"because whatever has happened to humanity, whatever is currently happening to humanity, it is happening to all of us."

Rejuvenation Through Creation

A day's work.
Finding my joy through creation.
The patterns within the indigo
are like the clouds in the sky.
So many unexpected treasures.

A poem

Thanksgiving morning 2015 and when I woke up, I  picked up a book by Wendell Berry.  Opening the book to see what poem might speak to me, this is the one I saw, and yes, it spoke to me.

Questionnaire

By Wendell Berry

1.    How much poison are you willing

to eat for the success of the free

market and global trade? Please

name your preferred poisons.

2.    For the sake of goodness, how much

evil are you willing to do?

Fill in the following blanks

with the names of your favorite

evils and acts of hatred.

3.    What sacrifices are you prepared

to make for culture and civilization?

Please list the monuments, shrines,

and works of art you would

most willingly destroy.

4.      In the name of patriotism and

the flag, how much of our beloved

land are you willing to desecrate?

List in the following spaces

the mountains, rivers, towns, farms

you could most readily do without.

5.      State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,

the energy sources, the kinds of security,

for which you would kill a child.

Name, please, the children whom

you would be willing to kill.

At a volleyball game watching the sadness in the eyes of a player sitting on the bench, not being allowed to join the play, I take refuge….

The Buddha offered this wonderful image.  If you take a handful of salt and pour it into a small bowl of water, the water in the bowl will be too salty to drink.  But if you pour the same amount of salt into a large river, people will still be able to drink the river’s water. (Remember, this teaching was offered 2,600 years ago, when it was still possible to drink from rivers!)  Because of its immensity, the river has the capacity to receive and transform.  The river doesn’t suffer at all because of a handful of salt.  If your heart is small, one unjust word or act will make you suffer.  But if your heart is large, if you have understanding and compassion, that word or deed will not have the power to make you suffer.  You will be able to receive, embrace, and transform it in an instant.  What counts here is your capacity.  To transform your suffering, your heart has to be as big as the ocean.  Someone else might suffer.  But if a bodhisattva receives the same unkind words, she won’t suffer at all.  It depends on your way of receiving, embracing, and transforming.  If you keep your pain for too long, it is because you have not yet learned the practice of inclusiveness. 

The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching by Thich Nhat Hanh

Sitting in Cafe Ventana
Chinese poets
the state of the world
Your life is your religion
Who said that?
The Dalai Lama?
No, my mother