Here are two fathers–my husband and my Dad. In so many ways, cut from the same cloth. This could be my Dad elaborating on the definition of  the 250 point word that he has just invented, laid out on the Scrabble board with absolute authority and is daring my husband to challenge. That look of bemused skepticism on my husband’s face embodying his fondness, momentary self-doubt and internal calculations–could it possibly BE a word? Or maybe they’re discussing a wager on the next football game. My father defending his position that he can only take the Navy team if my husband will give him two touchdowns. Of course, with complete seriousness, he will fabricate the article that he read last week on some random sports page saying that Navy will definitely lose by, not two, but three touchdowns! They’ve been exchanging the same dog-eared $5.00 bill for years now, betting on football and basketball–the two sports that my father played in college. It took more than a few years for my husband to catch on to this art of negotiation. To develop the capacity to make a ridiculous offer with a straight face.

I love them both and what I appreciate is their generosity, their dedication to family, their determination and their playful spirit. My father, who will be 88 next week said yesterday that, “…nothing can keep me down! I’m not going to just fade away!” Today, I celebrate these wonderful men and all fathers everywhere. HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!!

“So how do we celebrate impermanence, suffering, and egolessness in our everyday lives? When impermanence presents itself in our lives, we can recognize it as impermanence. We don’t have to look for opportunities to do this. When your pen runs out of ink in the middle of writing an important letter, recognize it as impermanence, part of the whole cycle of life. When someone’s born, recognize it as impermanence. When someone dies, recognize it as impermanence. When your car gets stolen, recognize it as impermanence. When you fall in love, recognize it as impermanence, and let that intensify the preciousness. When a relationship ends, recognize it as impermanence. There are countless examples of impermanence in our lives every day, from the moment we wake up until we fall asleep and even while we’re dreaming, all the time. This is a twenty-four hour a-day practice. Recognize impermanence as impermanence.”

- PEMA CHODRON -

On May 23, my sweet friend Marja departed from this life. She was courageous, graceful, thoughtful and humble. A deeply spiritual woman–mother, sister, daughter, wife, friend. She let go gradually and, in the process, she brought together a community. She planned her own memorial service which included a farewell letter to all who were assembled to celebrate her life. Her message was embodied in her son’s performance of “Let it Be.”

I have entered the time of life when good-byes are increasing. When the reality of impermanence is inescapable. When I am learning more and more how to love what is mortal and when the time comes, to let it go.

IN BLACKWATER WOODS

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

- MARY OLIVER -

I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

- MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.  -

We’re in the wondrous chartreuse time of spring. The yellow greens; trees on the edge of leafing out. I wake up filled with gratitude for my life…the richness of family, friends, good health, work that I love for which I am well paid. The gift of my father, who at almost 88, still seems young and playful in his own way…the man who continues to teach me about love and about appreciation and generosity. Here he is, against all odds, still here. I want to thank him for staying–most especially for being here for my daughters who love him dearly and absolutely. I see him gradually letting go. Whenever I visit, I find him napping in his wheelchair. He always lights up when he sees me and when asked how he’s doing, he says, “As best as can be expected under the circumstances!”

APRIL PRAYER

Just before the green begins there is the hint of green
a blush of color, and the red buds thicken
the ends of the maple’s branches and everything
is poised before the start of a new world,
which is really the same world
just moving forward from bud
to flower to blossom to fruit
to harvest to sweet sleep, and the roots
await the next signal, every signal
every call a miracle and the switchboard
is lighting up and the operators are
standing by in the pledge drive we’ve
all been listening to: Go make the call.

- STUART KESTENBAUM -

“You can never love another person unless you are equally involved in the beautiful but difficult spiritual work of learning to love yourself. There is within each of us, at the soul level, an enriching fountain of love. In other words, you do not have to go outside yourself to know what love is. This is not selfishness, and it is not narcissism; they are negative obsessions with the need to be loved. Rather this is the wellspring of love within the heart. Through their need for love, people who lead solitary lives often stumble upon this great fountain. They learn to whisper awake the deep well of love within. This is not a question of forcing yourself to love yourself. It is more a question of exercising reserve, of inviting the wellspring of love that is after all, your deepest nature to flow through your life. When this happens, the ground that has hardened within you grows soft again. Through a lack of love everything hardens. There is nothing as lonely in the world as that which has hardened or grown cold. Bitterness and coldness are the ultimate defeat.

If you find that your heart has hardened, one of the gifts that you should give yourself is the gift of the inner wellspring. You should invite this inner fountain to free itself. You can work on yourself in order to unsilt this, so that gradually the nourishing waters begin in a lovely osmosis to infuse and pervade the hardened clay of your heart. Then the miracle of love happens within you. Where before there was hard, bleak, unyielding, dead ground, now there is growth, color, enrichment, and life flowing from the lovely wellspring of love. This is one of the most creative approaches in transfiguring what is negative within us. You are sent here to learn to love and to receive love. The greatest gift new love brings into your life is the awakening to the hidden love within. This makes you independent. You are now able to come close to the other, not out of need or with the wearying apparatus of projection, but out of genuine intimacy, affinity, and belonging. It is a freedom. Love should make you free. You become free of the hungry, blistering need with which you continually reach out to scrape affirmation, respect, and significance for yourself from things and people outside yourself. To be holy is to be home, to be able to rest in the house of belonging that we call the soul.”

Spring has arrived…the fruit trees in full bloom; daffodils, grape hyacinths. tulips. We’ve had buckets of rain…lawns thick carpets of green; wild onions sprouting tall, wispy. This morning I see a rose breasted grosbeak at the finch feeder. Just two days ago, I said to my husband that I would love it if some exotic new bird friends would stop by…and I actually said, “I’d love to see some grosbeaks…”

Forever Oneness,
who sings to us in silence,
who teaches us through each other.
Guide my steps with strength and wisdom.
May I see the lessons as I walk,
honor the Purpose of all things.
Help me touch with respect,
always speak from behind my eyes.
Let me observe, not judge.
May I cause no harm,
and leave music and beauty after my visit.
When I return to forever
may the circle be closed
and the spiral be broader.

 - BEE LAKE -

an Aboriginal poet

A MORNING OFFERING

I bless the night that nourished my heart
To set the ghosts of longing free
Into the flow and figure of dream
That went to harvest from the dark
Bread for the hunger no one sees.

All that is eternal in me
Welcome the wonder of this day,
The field of brightness it creates
Offering time for each thing
To arise and illuminate.

I place on the altar of dawn:
The quiet loyalty of breath,
The tent of thought where I shelter,
Wave of desire I am shore to
And all beauty drawn to the eye.

May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.

May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.

- JOHN O’DONOHUE -

It’s been a quiet time at MY INNER  EDGE. The lens cap has stayed on my camera for much of the winter and lately I’ve been tending to other things. You can check out one of my new endeavors over at my MINDFUL LIVING blog. That said, when I saw the foam on my morning cup of coffee, I just had to take a picture…believe me, this did not come from being a skilled barista.

Part of what’s been happening in my world is the exploration of social media…and the shift from being largely anonymous to the possibility of being seen and known. I suppose if I was under 20, this process would be a no-brainer and almost second nature. And I suppose if I wasn’t so stubbornly independent, I would just hire someone to build my web presence. So, there you have it…I’m fumbling along–rebuilding the website that I didn’t backup properly last year, learning about tweets and fan pages and search engine optimization. And pondering the desire to be known.

P.S. K.H. the coffee and the poem below are for you…

THE PICK AXE

Some commentary on I was a hidden treasure,
and I desired to be known: tear down

this house. A hundred thousand new houses
can be built from the transparent yellow carnelian

buried beneath it, and the only way to get to that
is to do the work of demolishing and then

digging under the foundations. With that value
in hand all the new construction will be done

without effort. And anyway, sooner or later this house will
fall on its own. The jewel treasure will be

uncovered, but it won’t be yours then. The buried
wealth is your pay for doing the demolition,

the pick and shovel work. If you wait and just
let it happen, you’ll bite your hand and say,

“I didn’t do as I knew I should have.” This
is a rented house. You don’t own the deed.

You have a lease, and you’ve set up a little shop,
where you barely make a living sewing patches

on torn clothing. Yet only a few feet underneath
are two veins, pure red and bright gold carnelian.

Quick! Take the pickaxe and pry the foundation.
You’ve got to quit this seamstress work.

What does the patch-sewing mean, you ask. Eating
and drinking. The heavy cloak of the body

is always getting torn. You patch it with food,
and other restless ego-satisfactions. Rip up

one board from the shop floor and look into
the basement. You’ll see two glints in the dirt.

- RUMI -

THE INNER HISTORY OF A DAY

No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.

- JOHN O’DONOHUE -