I watch evaporation

on the roof shingles

as the sun slowly rises

I watch evaporation

of a single jet contrail

the flight path much quieter

than usual

I watch the evaporation

of what I took for granted

democracy

the free movement of people everywhere

touching my beloveds

I watch the evaporation of illusions

that the earth will always tend to our needs

that the stock market is a tangible thing

that I am a sovereign nation

I watch crocuses opening

I watch daffodil buds unfurling

Drowning in bird song

All of life’s moisture

recycling invisibly

above me and all around me

Wake up

take care

we are still breathing the same air

Diary 4/4/20

“Around the world, seismologists are observing a lot less ambient seismic noise — meaning, the vibrations generated by cars, trains, buses and people going about their daily lives. And in the absence of that noise, Earth’s upper crust is moving just a little less.” Harmeet Kaur CNN reporter

Think about it- only on Christmas Day does the earth get a similar break from all of our noisy activities. How can we deny that the results of our human lives affect the planet? “The earth’s upper crust is moving just a little less.” I had no idea. It makes perfect sense, but it is astounding information to me. I had no idea that our impact on the planet is connected on so many more levels than I even understood.

Diary 4/3/20

“When the heart weeps at what it has lost

The soul laughs at what it has found.”

                                    A Sufi proverb

I heard Eckhart Tolle repeat this in a video clip that a friend sent me the other day only he said, “When the ego weeps…”. In either version, it is a truth I understand far better since my husband Richard died two years and almost two months ago. At the time, there was weeping, knee-collapsing howling, and a wish for an entire tribe of ululating women to match the pitch of wailing required to express my loss. What was unexpected, was the subsequent and now simultaneous arising of soulful jubilation.

Having lurched through the portal of such a devastating life-changing loss, there was a profound sense of peace and liberation (inadequate, approximate words) that followed. Flowing into the gaping hole torn by grief was a sweet, equally intense joy. I was so fortunate that Richard and I had little unfinished business left to attend to. I was relatively free of guilt, or many “if only-s”. As both psychotherapists and spiritual partners, we worked hard all of our lives to learn of our own faults and forgive ourselves and one another for our ever-struggling humanity.

When tumors in his brain resulted in surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, his old capacity for processing or comprehending that level of work between us rapidly dwindled. The whole last eighteen months of his life did not allow for such deep endeavors anymore. Other aspects of his being remained- his sense of humor, his dedication to finishing outdoor projects he had begun, his delight in ice cream after his taste for food disappeared, and his love and acknowledgement of love given and received by his friends, family and caregivers.

Having learned that hearing is the last sensory perception to go after the final breath is gasped, I lay on one side of his body, my daughter on the other, for an hour whispering into his ear as his soul departed farther and farther away from this earth plane. I chanted the Heart Sutra mantra *over and over, “Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate, bodhi svaha”, and many other more intimate sendings that arose spontaneously in my final moments of releasing our attachments to one another. I felt complete when I arose from his bed and saw the stillest version of his pale body left behind.

I also felt the magnetic pull of wherever it is we arrive and depart from so close, vibrating like threads of light and music all around me. The living room with the hospital bed, oxygen, commode, and medications, was only a temple for the sacred human beings left behind after their rituals of death.

In this time of great grief and loss of what we took as normal, I am also making room for the laughter of my soul. I am less preoccupied with having to do as much as I already felt obligated to do in this very busy and dynamic “retirement” community. I am laughing at my zoom dinner with family and friends (please pass the salt?), zoomed Quaker meeting, and have joined a new Buddhist sangha in Oberlin also via zoom, one I could never get to attend in person before this. I am laughing at my grandson Max on daily Face Time check-ins as he discovers his toes and his voice. I am laughing at the precious springtime awakening in the enclosed garden available to me. I laugh at my ego scrambling in dismay as once again it is thwarted in its chartered course to control life. I laugh and cry as I see, as never before, the world swept by sorrow and the joyful opportunity to stay open-hearted together in this crisis.

*I like this short reference and in it there is also a laugh. https://www2.kenyon.edu/Depts/Religion/Fac/Adler/Reln260/Heartmantra.htm

4/1/20 The Marketplace

                        By Judi Bachrach

If you are selling Fear

I am not buying

You shout to me,” Are you crazy?

Look around you, are you blind?”

The worst could happen

though I am careful, proactive

but it is not happening to me

Now

I am not dwelling

in the future

I will face whatever I must

as I must

and trust

that I will not shut down

that I am more loving than Fear

Love is safer, sometimes sadder

but I am more connected

open-hearted

to you

my dear ones

you know

Death always walks beside us in the marketplace

The following is a quote from my friend Bonnie Gintis’ latest blog, and you can click the link below to read the entire piece. She has been an osteopathic healer to my family, is my friend, and an inspiration to follow as she gracefully dances her life with cancer. I highly recommend her blog.

“The fundamental basis of health is not the absence of disease, but the ability to adapt, and find ways to respond and adjust to whatever challenges we experience. Whether it is cancer, a paper cut, or disappointment, the body finds ways to repair itself as best it can, and then adapt to the new state of things. Health is not an object or a destination we will get to someday when the pandemic ends and things calm down. Being healthy is a work-in-progress, an on-going innovative, creative, adaptive process.”

Radical Embodiment In The Time of Covid-19

Diary 3/29/20

Yesterday’s rolling thunderstorms resulted in a real clap bang flashing storm last night. It woke me up and I was relieved to hear the same weather patterns spawning tornadoes resulted only in a could-have-been-worse event in Arkansas. The wind is still blowing, clearing out the sky and shaking budding daffodils with their almost flowers. The verbena spice bush outside my window is fattening with buds, and the newly planted oak hydrangea survived the late fall planting to show branches that hint of green life beneath the still bare skin.

This morning I zoomed a Quaker meeting which was nourishing and sweet for all. Tonight, I am zooming a shared dinner with family and friends which I am greatly looking forward to. We all know how grateful we are that cyber space affords us these connections. How much harder it would be to feel helpless and wonder how loved ones are faring without this great gift of technology. Many people in the world are in just that position and it makes me sad to contemplate how difficult life must be for them as we share this pandemic.

I just came back in from an outing in the enclosed south facing courtyard garden and sat down on a bench in front of the big wind chimes. They ring in some Asian temple bell harmonics and as the wind was strong and gusty, the strikes and reverberations were constant. Familiar patterns arranged themselves into a known melody and were quickly dispersed by the next breeze. I like the idea of my thoughts assembling and then scattering on the whims of wind. Silence beneath the coalescing and evaporation of the busy mind began to arise just before a massive cloud covered the sun and sitting still became too cold.

After staying inside during the last dark and rainy days, how can I not be amazed at the greening of a lawn, a leaf, a spray of last year’s lavender- more than that, the color of different crocuses or daffodils glowing against the suddenly darkening sky. In the cactus section of the garden someone placed the white skull and legbone of, perhaps, a canine? The master planner of the garden, a biologist, I believe, explained the garden layout to us last year in terms of the interconnection of the variety of species he chose. His was long term planning, including the tending of newly planted trees that will become much bigger in ten years’ time. This has been meticulously noted for future gardeners to keep his initial vision in proper balance.

I hope that, wherever you are, you can also view the out of doors, or better yet, take a carefully spaced outing whether you walk or roll out as many do around here. The earth continues its own unfolding even as we grapple with hunkering down. We are lucky to live, to connect, to sing, to dance, to laugh, and cry- to be human, calling on the best we can be for the long-term future of all.  May the trees long outlast us and may we co-join with their roots in deep gratitude to keep on growing.

Diary 3/28/20 Pandemical Neighborhood Series

Endless Well

No wonder we need guns.

We’ve got to fight

for our toilet paper.

No wonder we need lies.

We just rediscovered

that life is suffering.

Buddha told us that

Over two thousand years ago.

He and many others

also told us

there are ways to live in joy.

Compassion is an endless well.

Diary 3/23/20  A Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood Series

by Judi Bachrach

                       For Mr. Rogers

It all comes down to fear

of the Ultimate fear

along the way

no food

no shelter

no rank in the herd

no breath

loss of any or all of the above

action based survival

nobody can fix

that Life is the way it is

for you

or anybody you love or not

believe it or not

compassion is all we can be

won’t you be my neighbor?

Dairy 3/24/20

It’s a Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood

            By Judi Bachrach

  (for Mr. Rogers)

Standing 6 feet away

I think of you all

near and far

my neighbors

at home

working or playing

Perhaps now there is time

more time than we remembered

to be

a neighbor

won’t you be mine?

Diary 3/25/20

Pandemical Day in the Neighborhood

            By Judi Bachrach        

            (for Mr. Rogers)

The line at the dispensary

Respectful 6 feet apart

Allowing 5 people inside at a time

“Yeah, my left arm is numb

Inoperable cyst on my spinal cord…”

“PTSD.” Mumbled reply, “thank you for your service…”

“My son just got laid off yesterday

I guess liquor stores are now non-essential.”

Chuckles all around

“At least the governor was proactive.”

Silence. This is conservative Ohio

Nobody mentions the president.

My turn  

I am delighted I could get enough tincture

to last me until September

Back in the Care Center

I shed my mask and gloves

wipe down my rollator

put that coat and those shoes away

My home neighborhood serenades me

through my open window

Singing my own newly minted words to me

Guess the tune to this one….

I’ve been working in my own room

all the live long day.

I’ve been working in my own room

just to pass the time away.

Keeping Kendal well protected

Rise up so early in the morn

Keeping Kendal well protected

Let’s all blow our horn.

Keeping Kendal safe

Keeping Kendal safe 

Blowing our own hoooorn—

Keeping Kendal safe

Keeping Kendal safe

Blowing our own horn.      

Someone’s in the kitchen at Kendal      

Staff is still working I knoooow –

People who are working at Kendal    

Keep the new status quo.

And we thank you

Fee fi fiddly i-o         

fee fi fiddly i-o-o-o-oo

fee fi fiddly i-o

Keeping the new status quo.