Kai-the-dog likes the woodstove. A lot. He is an old dog whose muscles, joints and bones ache. He is almost 14 years old and so, in human years, he is almost 98. Medications to numb the pain are helping but still, an egg-crate-foam bed and a very hot wood stove are a great comfort to a dog in his later years.
The classic leftovers-dessert shows that something wonderful can be crafted with nothing much at all
The moments of our days are not unlike the stones of the planet. Some are beautiful and translucent. Some are smooth while others need their sharp edges in order to catch the light. Some have a quiet mystery and others convey colors every bit as vibrant as the flowers of a garden.
These days, as I age and slow down a bit, I am finding myself less and less inclined to rush past precious things in search of many or impressive or self-anesthetizing things.
Glamor craves what might be, while beauty gently nods at the wabi-sabi of what simply is. Impermanent. Imperfect. Incomplete. And yet still lovely.
Though I have many friends, I find it helpful to celebrate them one at a time when I pray. This one friend. This one shell. This one meditation moment. This one day of life.
We humans like to leave a mark behind which says: “I was here.” We wonder what will be left behind when we die? Was it good people raised, big churches built, good sermons written, good art in homes or galleries or good memories of people who loved us and occasionally tell stories including or even about us?
I ascend my little ladder in the morning before sunrise. Going up is easy, as it was, I expect, in the Transfiguration story. But coming down…that is harder (as it was in the Transfiguration story also, I expect.)
I clutter my home with love. Well, things really. But they are icons of love – hard to let go of and yet…it is time to simplify. It is time “to small” my life. Small should be a verb.
“The psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight.” Joseph Campbell