Autumn Equinox 2012

Today the rains came, temperatures dropped into sweater territory. Right on cue the curtain fell on summer. How does the cosmos know how to do that so precisely?

A pile of red tomatoes is heaped on my kitchen counter. Some are split from the rain and quickly saved into a slowly simmering sauce. The smell of that sauce is fall, the night comes along inky dark. My African music on Pandora radio comforts what is left of the day.

It is with great and earnest idealism that I find these days those in the public sphere who comport themselves with the greatest dignity and integrity are those with whom I align my allegiances. How about that for some 19th Century language? A tip-toe around the subject of politics, that dire and dangerous territory where my country is drawing the lines of divisive ideologies deeper, bolder, more dramatic every day.

How I miss the educated, idealist Kennedy types who used to hold more sway on the national stage. They had money, but they were also fiercely dedicated to causes which uplifted all, like the Peace Corps. This morning I was fortunate to have 3 emails from a young acquaintance who is just beginning his Peace Corps teaching assignment in Guana, Africa. Jakob writes of the images, the cultural differences, the food, the land, the kids, and the way his experiences are shaping him as a person. I find myself reading his words, being there in spirit, with a village of people living simply and being generous and respectful to the new American English teacher, who left the country where the streets are paved with gold, to live in a meager cabin with few amenities.  Jakob is looking for the world, and he is finding it. John F. Kennedy began that program. How I miss him, and his brothers!

Later on I watch a video of Edward Kennedy's predecessor hammer on a Harvard Law professor who is running against him for the Senate seat in Massachusetts. This white, male WASPy cretin took the first 10 minutes of a televised debate to attack his opponent on the subject of her Native American heritage, and how he alleges she was hired only because of Affirmative Action to her Harvard position. Was he diverting, quickly and desperately, from any comment or connection to the pathetic and embarrassing candidate his own party is running for President of this "great land"?

 I miss the Kennedy idealism, the football on the beach, the wind swept hair, the little kids everywhere, the great speeches with phrases like "Ask not, what your country can do for you...." The eloquence, the obvious culture and decorum, the humility, the humanity, the chiseled handsome looks which bespoke of outdoor pursuits, and an open mind.

I miss the years of my own youth where I believed in an evolving world, where education and civic duty would save us from ourselves. It is hard to be in this new world, not brave, but full of bravado. The seven deadly sins come back full force, despite The Bible being carried about like a gun.

Dry/Seco

Here in the 'Pacific Northwet' we are into a month at least of dryness. Painting jobs are made easier, and the grass finally stops growing. The plants not watered have become brown stalks. There is a preponderance of the color 'gold' in our landscape.

In early summer we heard of heat waves in every other part of our country. Heat waves over a hundred degrees, where the new plants had no chance to take hold. Friends in the East coast complained to us here in the Northwest of the discomfort with the extreme unrelenting heat as though they knew how cool we were, (literally and figuratively). Our early summers are so cold, sometimes it feels impossible that a summer will ever come, and then, strangely, after the 4th of July something shifts. It gets warm and the garden vegetables begin to suddenly grow in noticeable spurts.

Even though the ground is too dry to dig anything out or in, the gophers manage to root around, creating the piles which signal their habitat. The moles go for the only places one waters, like the black-eyed susan flowers I guard and nurse every year. A mole hole rises exactly in the middle of my beautiful plant. It is hard to like 'wildlife' when I see that....

I mowed the weeds today, the little yellow flowers that are everywhere and go to seed. Even mowed weeds look OK. Last night there were coyotes howling and all the animals in the area, cows, dogs, cats etc, were making extra noise.  The air is so dry, the fir trees are giving off that mountain air pine smell - exquisite. In a few weeks this will all be a memory, but for now the night is warm and full of stars. The breezes blow into open windows warm even in the dark. We pretend we live in a different climate zone, briefly.

Indian Summer

Today there is a prevailing east wind, the grass is dry and crackly, summer is winding down. Plants like foxglove and feverfew are sending out little flowers, their last gasp. Plants that produce huge amounts of seed are spreading themselves cleverly as I clip the dried stems and haul them out and away, but not before they drop a hundred little seeds as hardy as the winter is long, seeds which, if not found by the birds will bring lots more of their species into the lawn, the beds, and even the cracks between the pavement.

A human with a strong spirit is like a wild daisy, or a poppy in the dry, shorter days just before the equinox. The spirit sends out seeds, flowers, seizing the moment before winter sets in. How do we keep our spirits strong and feisty? How do we stand up like the last lemon yellow calendula flower against the hot dry winds of oppression and inequity?

Everyone seems to have some way to do it, everyone who survives. Swami Kriyananda spoke last Sunday of "not wanting".  How do we live, thrive, create and love without wanting? It must be somewhere in the dichotomy of Eckart Tolle's statement, "Don't look for peace." We free ourselves from desire, and the incessant search for illusive ideals, and then... be.