I don't want to be a vegetarian

I seem to be the recipient of a cosmic message.

All last fall I studied Pema Chodron books with my book club, and at odd times now, her voice, which I played constantly on Ipod, comes thru. It's been, shall we say, a stressful year, and I find a good deal of comfort in her wisdom.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

For Christmas, we got a book called The Omnivore's Dilemma and I read it mostly to look for insight into the heads of the kids who gave it to us. One half of my four kids are vegetarians but in a quiet, nonthreatening way - never making a fuss or criticizing us, just making choices out of what is served at the table, and sometimes cooking their foods as treats for us.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

So first the book leads you down the path of how corn has invaded all of our food. I knew, from reading labels for my corn-allergic husband, just how much corn syrup etc was in all our food now, and have been trying to eat around it as best I can. But I had no idea of the politics behind it. Now it suddenly makes sense that oilman George Bush would be promoting ethonol.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

Then the book leads you to see how the politics have changed family farms so that now huge amounts of corn go to produce our chicken and beef. And how much more land and resources are needed to produce beef than is needed for veggies.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

Things that I'd read in my earlier hippie days (Diet for a Small Planet) came back to me.
Then the book talks about the other costs that are not reflected in the sticker price on the food, which rang true in these times of global warming and drought.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

And then the book gently mentions the treatment of animals that are raised commercially and "grain finished" in misery.

And a "scandal" hits the news that confirms the treatment of animals - flaring up quickly but forgotten quickly since no one really wants to think about that very much. It's not a popular scandal like Michael Vick mistreating his dogs - this is all of us participating in mistreating cows and chickens, so let's think about something more titilating.

"May I be free of suffering, and the root of all suffering."

And all of a sudden I can't bring a forkful of meat to my mouth.

My kids took me to a local farmer's market in a parking lot, and we bought expensive (or accurately priced?) beef and sausage, and I could eat it OK. And we went out to dinner at a place that used chicken and beef from a neighboring farm, and I could eat it. Then I came home to beef stew with meat from Publix, and I wasn't hungry.

I think I may not be able to eat that again. And intellectually of course I don't want to ever. But this is going to be such a pain to me to shop more carefully and learn new ways of cooking with different menus. Such a pain.

May I be free from all suffering and the root of all suffering, and may I not cause suffering.

Amen.

I was wrong about the empty nest thing

Over a year ago, on my last post, I was wistfully looking towards a time when we'd have an empty nest. Turns out that it's not empty after all.

We have a really nice old bird living with us. He's teaching us all a bit about being gracious with unexpected life changes, and he's fun.

Boy gone again

We are so on the cusp of a different life.

Our house is full of our kids right now: one still home (a high school senior now, oh my) and two (the married ones) living in the apartment downstairs. Middle One has gone on another adventure - this time without a program or plans (which means no one to call other than the US embassy if he goes missing). He thoughtfully left many many many boxes of his stuff, plus his beer making equipment, stacked around so it almost feels as if he is here.

But this time next year our house is emptying out. In my mind it plays like a Steve Martin movie with a parade loading up and driving off, with us aging parents smiling and waving from the front door. The Two will be finished with grad school and in the next stage of life, probably in a home provided by the church this time. The Middle One will have come home and gone again, this time out of state to a med school or public health school. And our babe will be off at college negotiating roommates, bookstores, mealplans, laundromats, and girls.

We've been married 33 years but it's been 27 since we had an extended time of just the two of us. We enjoy each other's company (for the most part!) and are looking forward to returning to being just us, following our nose on the weekends. No going to church "for the sake of the children" if we prefer St Mattress one week. No staying up til midnight to make sure someone gets home in one piece. (Included in college tuition is the knowledge that someone ELSE will get the first call). No cooking supper if we don't feel like it - we can fix soup or a salad and call it a day.

The Two tell us they absolutely will not have children for at least three more years. We two nod and agree how wise that is, and smile to ourselves that sometimes Goddess sends you children on her schedule. At some point life will change again and we'll see the world through some new little eyes, and that will be a delight.

So......... we're still too busy with our family, and content to be too busy, knowing that next year we'll be busy with rediscovering each other, if we are granted the luxury of time together.

Sabbath/Signs of Spring

Ever since my kids were little we'd go out walking to find "signs of spring." A daffodil up, or tree which seems red on the edges where the new leaves are forming.

Last week a huge flock of geese flew by - not an unusual happening except that there were so many of them. They continued to honk and fly about in an un-geeselike formation. After about 5 minutes of watching them act confused we realized they were not just going back and forth but spiraling up. Back and forth, up and up, for many minutes. Were they disturbed? Was it bird flu? What was going on? Eventually it became clear - they were ratcheting up to catch a good air stream. When they did they went right into formation and headed on their way.

The only reason I saw all of this was that it was Sabbath. For Lent I'm giving up consumerism (staying out of stores on Sunday mostly - a big challenge for last minute linda). Instead of cruising Lowes I was out on a walk with my friend, and we stopped and wondered at the geese. I think that's what God had in mind with the whole Sabbath gig.

Boy home again

The first boy is a preacher, the second is a poet and the third is a screenwriter (in the making). Words seem to count a lot in our house.

Boy two came home this week after being on another continent for months and months. We weren't worried about him, really. Ok, we were worried. He gets lost on I-285 here so would he be ok speaking in a second languge, and learning a third while living in a very different culture? We didn't speak a lot of being worried, not wanting to show a lack of confidence in him, but it's what parents are sometimes.

Now he's come home and the sun has come out. Arriving on solstice, our poet is home. He's written music, and delights us with expressions from his other home. "Coffee without froth is like a wedding without flowers."

He's written a song, the title of which translates to "slowly slowly". It's an expression which affirms patience. In the song he says it's time to "start living, and owning what you know." It's made me think some more about owning what I know. Trying to live a little less in the reactive mode.

We used to say that we were rich, rich not in money but in boys. And hearing a song that sounds so wise from someone I birthed makes me feel very rich.

Winter coming

I dread fall.
After fall, winter always comes.
Beautiful leaves and a crispness to the air only slightly ameliorate the dread.

Fall means things are dying, and reminds me that I'm dying, too. It means months (I've already start counting them now - how many til April?) of never being warm enough - even during hot flashes my toes are still cold.

It doesn't help that the cliches about time moving faster as one ages are true. That's part of the dread. It makes me feel tired. Time has started to go so fast that it blurs into a "gotta get the tree up - gotta take the tree down" chore list.

I keep searching for the beauty in it.
I read essays on how we all need time to lie fallow just as the earth does. I marvel at the bone structure of trees that you can only see when they are laid bare by winter. But I'm cold, whiny and the Dar Williams song about February plays in my head.

The solstice will be soon, and then in another month the days will be lengthening. I don't wish for the time to come sooner cos that's wishing away even more of my life.

But I do wish for the daffodils of March and kite weather and the neon green of spring.

Here's a poem by Louise Gluck, from Averno (Farra, Starus and Giroux)

My friend the earth is bitter; I think
sunlight has failed her.
Bitter or weary, it is hard to say.

Thanks

Thanksgiving is a holiday of just plain joy and thanksgiving, with no overlays of guilt or shoulds like the other holidays.

This year was different from other Thanksgivings in a lot of ways. Our all-time best one was in '99 when we celebrated not only turkey day with family but bringing home a son from the hospital after almost 4 weeks in ICU, now finally on the mend.

2005 comes in a close second place. 2/3 of our sons were off having their own adventures (South Georgia farms! Africa!), and we'd already seen the grandparents last weekend, so this Thursday seemed off balance somehow. We invited more family, albiet at the last minute, but other than uncle Charles and our oldest son's dear mother in law (who was stuck home waiting for the immenent birth of her next grandchild), everyone else was off having other adventures.

We were adventureless.

It was our first year without all our kids, and our 21 pound turkey seemed way out of proportion to our little group of 5. We invited another couple but they were iffy about coming. I set out my good china. (I have service for 20 just in case everyone were to show up at the same time.) I picked flowers for a centerpiece. Should we take the leaf out of the table?

We did everything "right" but still things felt off balance.

Some of life's learning you have to learn over and over. After Mama died, our family learned a hard lesson. No matter how much you want to, you can't ever make things back just the same. You can knock yourself out trying, but it won't ever be right in the same way you remember so fondly. You have to craft new ways of doing things.

Something clicked. The sun got warmer and warmer. The radio kept calling it a "glorious" day outside. Our iffy friends called and said they could make it after all. We set up a folding table on the deck and carried our dishes and centerpiece outside to enjoy Thanksgiving al fresco! Charles had brought his guitar, so we had live music, good food, warm sunshine in November, and we made up a new right way to have Thanksgiving that worked for this year. My sister called from the beach to say she had seen dolphins from her window.

Who knows about next year? Maybe we won't all be here. Maybe there will be a grandbaby for us. Maybe we'll have an African daughter-in-law and decide to have Thanksgiving there. Who knows? This year - this time and this space - was good.

And I'm thankful.