Peace in Interesting Times

 Woof, it's been months since I took to the electronic page, and looking back I think I was simply digesting the rather uncomfortable year I spent in France. I miss you all, especially those of you who are gone forever more: my dad Richard, my sister-in law Ellen, my father-in-law Bill, my friends Steve Pomo, wonderful Ying-Mei, and more recently the amazing Bret Lyon. All subscribers to this newsletter. 

Ok let's start with fun and games, and some fact-checking, since we live in an era of Facebook-grade truth. Would you agree that we live in interesting times? And are you aware of the Chinese curse: "My you live in interesting times?" There is no such proverb, that is as made up as fortune cookies, which are no more Chinese than French fries are French. 

Robert Kennedy popularized the phrase "interesting times" in 1966. Apparently he thought those times were also intriguing. The Cold War and all that. 

Fortune cookies were invented by a Japanese (not Chinese)-American fellow by the name of Makoto Hagiwara in 1914. https://www.history.com/articles/fortune-cookies-invented-chinese-japanese ... But if you're relying on a cookie to predict your future, then you might believe Facebook is Truth. That's ok, we wuv u anyways. 

French fries were probably cooked up in Belgium, and called "French" mistakenly by American soldiers stationed there during World War I, around the time fortune cookies were  being devised. 

https://romaricjannel.substack.com/p/why-are-french-fries-called-french

Ok, my point is, I've been hearing from so many of you that your anxiety is skyrocketing since January. I can't blame you, I've also been gobsmacked, angered, and terrified by some of what we've been seeing in the news. The temptation is very strong to unload and imprecate. I've done my share of that, but I'm noticing that the only well it poisons is my own. 

I thought I would do things differently and focus on the abundance of good news in my life and yours.

First and foremost, Lisa's most recent MRI full-body scans have shown total remission from MS. There is no progression, now new lesions, and some demyelinated area (places where the neuron sheath has frayed from auto-immune attacks) have repaired themselves. This is nothing short of a miracle of modern medicine. No, not Eastern medicine, new age dietary quackery, or ayurvedic potions - advanced Western pharmaceutical products. Sure, they're expensive, and Big Pharma sucks, but heck, I'm eternally grateful for their inventions - we just need to make them available free to the greatest number, as is the case in much of Europe. It's not a scientific problem, it's a political will problem. 

Lisa's also been focusing on her creative projects and coming up with curious and curiously pleasing abstract patterns which I can't wait to show you when they're ready.

I also remain creative. Just completed a little sci-fi short called The Visitor: https://youtu.be/A9z3CiGUHiY

My classical guitar studies continue to kick my ass, but I'm finally getting some insights into how great music is composed and how brilliantly complex it is. 

Many of you are coping with their heightened anxiety or health challenges (and there are more and more of those as we age) via renewed creativity, from wood-turning to linocuts to poetry and deep dives into arcane forms of music. I love that transmutation process, which, much like Tong-Len meditation, breathes in pain and breathes out love. [Tong Len:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-x95ltQP8qQ]

Some of you are entering retirement, whether you are forced or euphorically choosing to do so. Of course there can be painful economic considerations. I was one of the people who didn't choose, and was laid off into early retirement, but had the good fortune of being able to make ends meet. If you can, my wish for you is that you will never miss work, and will reach deep and genuine enjoyment of your oh-so-precious life. We all have different ideas about what enlightenment is, but what I've learned from my practice is that truly treasuring each moment, regardless of my moods - what they call mental weather - or external circumstances - aka the news - is one of the simplest and greatest ways to have joy. And joy feels like wakefulness to me. 

In other great news, my mom is doing fantastically well, and her helper Sylvie is a daily lifesaver. I've set up things up so my mom doesn't have to worry about money running out , in fact she doesn't have to concern herself with anything material, because I'm pretty much taking care of it all. And Sylvie solves a huge variety of problems on the ground, with very little instruction I might add, from assembling a new wheelchair to addressing some administrative fluke. (Not easy in France, or anywhere). We've managed to avoid the senior home, and I think my mom realizes how lucky she is to have her place, her habits and her things intact, and her schedule as she pleases. I'm beyond grateful to my cousin Patrick for introducing us to Sylvie, whose insane boat people stories I will tell you some day. 

Our backyard has been like the Serengeti lately: rampaging raccoons, feuding hummingbirds, a screaming possum, a hawk that's targeting the explosive vole population, lizards competing on pushups, snow-white nesting kites, kestrels on the fence, the occasional coyote, scurrying squirrels, just to name a few, and now, a gorgeous tan fox whose territory we are part of. I make sure to include these creatures in my lovingkindness practice, they need it even more than humans do. When I think of love, I almost immediately think of the planet. Thich Nhat Hahn calls it our Great Mother and asks us to love her. How can something so basic be so meaningful? Because if more of us actually loved her, the way we love our family, we wouldn't treat her the way we do. 

Or maybe we would, the human animal certainly has its nasty sides ;-) 

Ha! You see? I'm far from wise. I don't have only love in my heart. But I do love y'all. 

Ok, let's leave each other with a poem, shall we? It's from a small collection I've been working on called Heart Poems. 

nothing but trees



I no longer see the forest, just the trees
one tree at a time. I used to know better,
I recall, as I notice from trunk to trunk
how this life has turned all bark and no sight
every time I’m lost a hand gently guides me
from the tangle of brush to the lookout.
see the lake, you say, the village, our home.
see everything you ever cared about.