Reflections From The Heart Of The Lotus
“Like the Ancient Greek story-tellers and the renowned Japanese novelists, we will begin the only way we can realistically and practically begin and that is right in the middle of something else.”
I’m waiting for the morning to start. Bill is still sleeping. Had to sneak out. Didn’t want to disturb his beauty sleep. Ha, ha! Like sleep could remove his beer belly and love handles.
“Stop that! Lucy, are you listening to me?” At eight years old, Lucy had a perfect view of all ten elevator buttons. The last three floors were dedicated to psychiatric services.
Lucy pushed all three buttons, then slyly glanced at the man with glasses who returned her smile.
Who am I who comes to this strange land of plenty, of breezes and olive trees, or so I’m told, and sand as far as my feet can walk.
Who has gone before me? I do not know. The sun is my roof, moving past an invisible horizon. No shadows form beneath the brush along a path beneath the sun’s light.
I check the reflections in the glass doors just before we enter the Veteran’s Hospital in Fresno, California. I’m twice the size of my husband and I’m a small woman. Every four months or so he loses more muscle tissue. No one mentions wasting disease, only arthritis and the possibility of type 2 diabetes.
The outlines of houses and trees were barely becoming visible. The air was still, neither cool nor warm. A door opened on the upper deck of the Shelton house.
The divine source is like a sun, tremendous creativity in the form of compassionate intelligence. Life emanates from divine source as dynamic, active. Human life enters the earth with 90% memory and 10% new energy for creative exploration.
Life force is an emanation from divine source that creates life or living tissue out of matter. Matter as particulars in space.
I can’t count the number of times Zorro was taken to the vet nor the number of blood tests that were done that showed slight elevations here or there, but as the very concerned vet explained, “There is nothing definitive, nothing that points to why his health is deteriorating. Even so, he has remarkable energy.”
They wear fur coats even in Summer, communicate without words, and depend on our attention, care and love as members of our family. Not just the nuclear family, but as companions to the human family throughout a long history.
You know you have it when you cannot say no to the downtrodden, forlorn and, above all, master manipulators of those of us born with a sympathy gland. To be fair, I should include all those who have acquired a similar phantom gland through guilt.
Henry points his finger at a cloud. He imagines the cotton feel on the tip of his finger. A butterfly passes close to his face. He likes the yellow ones on his grampa’s farm. His father called grampa grumpy. He didn’t look grumpy to Henry.
“We at Blue Eagle Airlines apologize for the delay. We will get you on the next flight available.” The airline clerk whispers something and hands the official a hand-written note.
“Your new flight number is 643. Flight 643 is due to arrive in approximately 45 minutes. Thank you.”
“Did you read about the accident on Lincoln Way? It’s on page 4.”
Marge never understood why Danny didn’t take the newspaper to work and read it during the day.
“I don’t read about tragedy.” As soon as the word came out, Marge knew she shouldn’t have said it.
“Sandra, come here. Look at that!”
Nonie’s granddaughter came over to peek out the lace curtains. She searched the alleyway below. Some garbage cans, a tabby cat. Nothing unusual.
“I don’t see anything Nonie. Want me to fix you something to eat?” Sandy’s job was to look after her grandma every day after school. Sandy’s mom said everyone has to pitch in and help.
Mike turned his head and leaned into the open car window. He could barely hear anything over the traffic.
“Don’t forget to ask Tom … you know.” Mike’s wife Pamela moved her eyes over to their son Skip who sat next to her, carefully peeling foil off a Hershey’s candy bar.
“Are you sure this is ripe?” Marian holds the melon in her hand. Her white hair looks blue under the fluorescent light.
“Well, why don’t you smell it.” Sarah pulls on her earring.
Marian doesn’t look at her daughter. She knows her expression of annoyance by heart.
The ability to help others first occurred to me when I was 12. Some friends urged me to please talk to their parents as a way of influencing them to give permission for a party. It worked, but not how my classmates imagined. In order to know what to say, I had to listen carefully for clues from each parent. As they spoke, patterns emerged in my mind and somehow I knew which words were needed, including the tone of voice required.
Hi Betty, My wife Mary and I have been separated for about 3 months and no matter what I do she won’t listen to me. I don’t know what to do at this juncture. She wants me to go to a marriage counselor with her. Do you think counseling will help my marriage? Thanks, Frederick
On the morning of May 29th, Grace Hathaway left the premises that some call the earth plane, or as she would say, “I’m out of here!”
Now, there are many stories for each person who leaves this earth, but none had as many as Grace, each story left with the appropriate child, relative or friend. She had four children, many relatives and numerous friends.
Consider how many times we have all experienced small, personal acts that came from the willing hearts of strangers that made a difference in our day, and for some of us, made a difference in our lives.
How many times have we extended a hand or a word to friend and stranger alike simply because that’s what most of us do?
What does it feel like not to fit in? All of us have felt it, still feel it from the playground at recess in fourth grade to the office cubicle on the first day of a new job.
What about our family of friends? I truly bow to those who have many genuine friends with whom they can share the most intimate details of their lives. In truth, we share different information depending on our relationships.