It’s raining. The gardener in me is happy, but the sun-loving reptile? Not so much.
Most things are like this, I suspect — good news/bad news. And not even ‘bad’ news. Just inconvenient, or gloomy, or … dampening. 🙂
Lately, whenever I sit down to write, or even think about writing, I bump up against attachment. Upādāna is the Sanskrit and Pāli word: “clinging,” “attachment” or “grasping”, although the literal meaning is “fuel.” And that’s pretty much what attachment is: fuel for the wrong kind of fire.
Today, I’ve already written in my gratitude journal, trying to overcome the sense of grey cobwebs clinging to me. I’m a total sunbird — seasonal affective disorder is no joke to me. Even though these misty days are beautiful, in their own way. Which is what I’m trying to focus on, letting go of my attachment to cool sunny days. 🙂
So I’m getting ready to feed the birds, which always makes me happy. And I’ve mailed a bright red envelope with a card thanking my elder son & daughter-in-law for a wonderful visit. Plus I made my husband a HUGE breakfast — chicken sausage, eggs, toast w/ slatherings of butter & jam. Not to mention this post, and cleaning off my desk, and all the things you can do to move through Upādāna.
In other words? I’m working on happy. And will settle (happily) for content.
Nothing like a nervous day at the doc’s to make you realise your life is very good. Not that I needed reminding… But it still serves as a bit of a wake-up call. You know: what the heck are you whining about?? 🙂
The eye that was giving me fits is just aging, as I am. And it’s unlikely it’s more than that, although I donated blood in the interest of precise science to make sure.
Still, nothing like weird stuff w/ the eyes to make a reader/ writer totally paranoid… 🙂
And to remind me: life is not a sure thing. Nor is health, or other things I tend to take for granted. No matter how I try not to, it’s easy to become comfortable.
But the basic premise of Buddhism is change — and our discomfort with that. Attachment. And boy, am I attached to my eyes!
So here’s my advice to you: use your eyes today. Take notice of spring, all around you (even in Florida & California!). If you don’t have dogwood, do you have jacaranda, with its lush purple blossoms? Or lilac? Are the trees dropping catkins for you? (My driveway is furry!) What about that clear blue sky? Or the silver grey of rain?
Don’t take it for granted, folks. It’s not a given. Not much is.
I’m raising bees! Today I went outside to check on them, and the brilliant blue/ green/ yellow & black of their bodies glittered as the females laid multiple eggs in the tubes of my mason bee house. The newer one is almost full, and even last year’s (carefully cleaned out for another year’s use) is filling up.
This is such good news. Bees are dying, and it breaks my heart.
Surely there’s almost no one who hasn’t heard the dire plight of bees, and what it means for so many American foods (and farmers, not to mention the two billion dollars beekeeping adds to the economy).
For years, I’ve wanted a beehive (actually, make that plural). A couple, at least, of the beautiful hives that Dadant sells — with a copper roof, and on a cedar footing. I’ve been reading bee books — and lurking on the Northeastern Beekeepers of Oklahoma Association listserv (NEOBA) — for years.The beekeeper listserv is the best followup class in beekeeping you could ask for. I know this, because I took exactly 1/2 of the class NEOBA teaches; family matters intervened… 🙁
But it’s not the right time — and who knows when it will be? — to invest the $500+ needed to set up in bees. It’s not a cheap hobby, although it’s a fascinating one, w/ a history as old as human beings. There are cave drawings thousandsof years old, showing bee robbers scaling cliffs with baskets to glean honey, much like the Nepali bee robbers do to this day.
So a couple of Christmases ago, one of my sisters bought me a mason (carpenter) bee house. It’s basically a gourd-shaped piece of wood,backed w/ woven basketry, filled w/ small bamboo tubes. Inside each tube, a female mason bee lays multiple eggs — males first, then females. The females hatch first, then wait for the males to hatch. And then there’s the mating dance. 🙂
Mason bees, unlike honey bees, don’t live in colonies, or produce honey for us. In other words, you can’t domesticate them. But they do provide pollination, and they’re every bit as interesting. Just different.
So despite not having a beautiful hive or two,I do have two mason bee apartment houses! And they’re filling up, even as I write. Somehow, this seems a metaphor for much of my life these days: learning to let go of what I thought I wanted, to appreciate the amazing world in front of me.
Most of the time, I confess, I think of Christianity as a violent religion. Beginning w/ the Crusades, various holy wars, the Spanish Inquisition, the Salem witch trials, Nazi Germany… It doesn’t appear to have read the New Testament, and it certainly doesn’t stress peace on earth to any real degree. Or so it’s always seemed to me.
I’ve always loved the stories of Jesus, and believed in the historical Jesus as a child. But early on I could see that most of the Christian systems I knew — churches, schools, etc. — didn’t follow Jesus. There was no turning of the other cheek, no welcoming of the metaphorical Samaritan. No feeding of the poor, unless it was convenient and not very expensive.
This sounds horribly critical, I realise. But it was, truthfully, the experience of my childhood and teen years. Christians, by & large, were not nice folks to others. They were constantly trying to convert each other — even though they all apparently shared Jesus. And a WHOLE LOT of them hadn’t read the Bible, but depended instead on received ‘knowledge’ from church leaders. Even as a kid I trusted my reading of texts over most others’. Please note: obviously I realise this is a generalisation. Having at least 4 members of my family who are ordained Christian ministers, and countless other members of family (as well as dear friends) who are the best of Jesus Christians, I’m well aware that there are many wonderful Christians in the world. I just knew more of the other kind growing up, as well as in my home state.
Today, however, I read an article highlighted in the Unitarian Universalist newsletter, reprinted from the 2008 magazine. The article is an excerpt from a book by Rita Nakashima Brock and Rebecca Ann Parker: Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire. In the passage highlighted in the UU newsletter, Brock & Parker trace the transition from early Christianity’s focus, in the first millenia, on Christianity’s help in living a happier life NOW, on earth, to the 2nd millenia’s emphasis on paradise in the afterlife, and the Christian crucifixion as its symbol. The difference between the pastoral shepherd Jesus above, and the Gero crucifix.
Brock & Parker argue that early Christianity was not about paradise after death. Instead, they contend, it was about living well in this life, and doing as Jesus would do. The whole ‘after death you’ll be rewarded’ concept wasn’t big, according to their studies. Here they detail what they found:
The death of Jesus, it seemed, was not a key to meaning, not an image of devotion, not a ritual symbol of faith for the Christians who worshipped among the churches’ glittering mosaics. The Christ they saw was the incarnate, risen Christ, the child of baptism, the healer of the sick, the teacher of his friends, and the one who defeated death and transfigured the world with the Spirit of life. This transfigured world is our world, paradise reopened.(Brock & Parker)
Wow. How much like Buddhism this sounds. Who also teaches his friends, and is incarnate, transfiguring the world with life, and the ability to find happiness. Not identical, certainly (no baptism, no resurrection — although many Buddhists believe in reincarnation — no miracles on the order of the leper). But far closer than the Jesus war-mongers and homophobic bullies cite as their source.
The piece by Brock & Parker took me back to the women in my childhood who believed w/out reservation in Jesus, and his teachings: help the poor, feed the hungry, do good. Live a life of love and service. Which is much what the Buddha asks, come to think of it.
I’m glad my roots in the Jesus stories of my Aunt Alene are affirmed. Somehow it makes my Buddhist adulthood far less esoteric, and much more inevitable. 🙂