JOURNAL: July 31, 2006

Yesterday I drove back up to Jaimie’s to retrieve my cell phone, and spent an hour or so hanging around with him and little Noah. Jaimie was cleaning his car, so Noah and I had fun being assistant car cleaners. Noah was resourceful and business-like as he rubbed a cloth along the dashboard and on the outside of the car. We also had fun washing the car, with me doing the actual washing and the little guy spraying the suds off with the hose. Later, I enjoyed a quiet afternoon at home, reading a few chapters in Dombey and Son and watching a little soccer on TV. I also made a major discovery: my own poems. I hadn’t read any of my poems in several months, so I decided to open one of the big binders and take a look at them. Well, it wasn’t long before I was completely engrossed – and, I must admit, impressed. Most of the poems seemed like good ones to me – musical, strong, and somewhat uncommon. I sat for perhaps thirty minutes appreciating these small poems from the last few years.

Very big news: My son Matt has been hired by an excellent local school district to teach a 3rd grade class! We are all completely thrilled and grateful.

JOURNAL: July 30, 2006

Yesterday I got back to my routine of walking in the park, but this time I did it in the early morning when the air felt cool and fresh. (The temperature rose to 90 later in the day.) It was a stimulating forty minutes of exercise – legs pumping, lungs functioning energetically, and heart doing its best work. Before many minutes had passed, my shirt was soaked with sweat, a sure sign that something good was happening. Feeling full of accomplishment, I actually cut the workout a bit short and walked quietly home with a smile. Later, I drove out to the mall just to wander around and see what the stores had to offer. The best part of the trip, actually, was the good meditation I was able to do as I drove. I worked with a particular idea during the entire trip, and by the time I reached the mall, some clear understandings had come to me. The only thing I bought at the mall was a closet organizer for my sweaters, something I’ve needed for a long time. I brought it home and immediately hung it up and carefully placed my sweaters in it. It looks perfect, I think, as it hangs there smartly among the other clothes. I wonder why I didn’t buy one long ago.

JOURNAL: July 29, 2006

Yesterday, my first day back from my hiking trip in the Lake District, I paid visits to my two grandsons. I first drove to Millbury to see Luke, Krissy, Kaylee, and little (seven-week-old) Josh. Krissy was feeling sick, and I was lucky enough to be available to help out for a few hours. Soon after I arrived, she helped me load the little fellow into their nifty “sling” and I proceeded to spend the next two delightful hours walking around their shady, peaceful yard with this small bundle of life cuddled next to my chest. I had brought a book along, and I actually got a lot of reading done as I walked. Every so often, I lifted the cloth of the sling and peaked in, and there was this magical and lovely boy, sleeping in utter serenity. As I walked back and forth, I often repeated to myself how totally fortunate I was to be right there doing exactly what I was doing. Around 1:00, Luke came home from work to help Krissy, so I left and drove down to visit with young Noah (almost 3). He greeted me at the door and rushed me right in to see his new “office”. Jaimie had set up an old computer keyboard and some fake credit cards, and Noah proudly explained how it all worked. Next we drove over to a lovely state park near their house, where small groups of families were enjoying the cooling water in pond. Jaimie and I dipped into the water to refresh ourselves, and then we played with Noah in the sand, driving his two toy trucks back and forth as he directed us. Later, we walked into the woods a short way, pointing out various things and playing hide and seek now and then as we walked. We drove back to Jaimie’s under dark clouds, listening to rumbling thunder in the distance.

JOURNAL: July 28, 2006

I've been away from my computer for nearly two weeks, hiking in the lake district in England, but I'm back now -- back in my comfortable apartment sitting in front of the keyboard at 5:30 a.m. on a warm summer morning. It was a wonderful trip, more wonderful than I had ever imagined it would be. I have been reading the poetry of William Wordsworth for fifty years, and this trip to his homeland was a long-cherished dream -- but it exceeded every expectation. The landscape was stunning in its wild yet simple beauty (see picture), the people were charming in every way, and my reading of Wordsworth's poems throughout the trip was thoroughly inspiring for me. I'll be typing up my journal of the trip and entering it in the blog as soon as possible.

JOURNAL: July 14, 2006

We’ve had a rainy few days – rumblings in the dark clouds off and on, constant moisture in the air, and showers every few hours. I’ve managed to make good use of the time, however. Each day I’ve taken excellent walks on the hills near my house, and my indoor time has been spent reading, watching the Tour de France, and slowly getting things ready Annie and Gabe’s visit. This morning, as I write this, I hear cars passing on the street, and there’s no sound of splashing, so perhaps the rain clouds have blown away. I am proud of myself, though, for not letting the stormy weather interfere with my workout schedule. Yesterday, in fact, I walked for nearly an hour, up and down the steep hills in the north end of town, and all the while a fairly steady rain was falling. I felt wonderful, actually. As the rain got stronger, I seemed to get stronger. I was wearing my quick-dry shirts and pants, so the rain hardly seemed to affect me. It was like I was part of the storm, blowing up and down the hills along with the rain.

My son Matt has had a very exciting and fulfilling week. He’s been interviewing for a teaching job in a local school district, and I think the process has done wonders for his confidence, both as an interviewee and as a future teacher. He now knows, beyond a doubt, that be belongs in a classroom – and will be there before too long.

JOURNAL: July 12, 2006

Yesterday was breezy and cool, an agreeable day for just about anything. I spent part of it listening to a wonderful audio recording of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, which I will be teaching next year for the first time. It’s a delightfully raucous yet sentimental and meaningful play, filled with lots of laughter and not a little wisdom. I’ve enjoyed the recording so much that I’m considering playing it for the students as they follow in their books. (We can then go back through the play a second time, discussing the more complicated and important sections.)

In the late afternoon, I put on my new lightweight Kelty daypack and trudged up and down the hills in my neighborhood for a full hour. It was a satisfying workout in every way. I saw parts of my town I had never noticed before, I gave my legs and heart a spirited workout, and I also did some pointed and helpful thinking as I walked. I ended up at the park, observing a rehearsal of the upcoming performance of Romeo and Juliet. (See picture.) I sat on the hillside swigging huge amounts of water and watching the scenes unfold.

MEDITATION: "Looking for Work, Doing the Dance"

This morning’s spiritual reading was on the topic of “life”, and it led me to thinking about my youngest son’s situation as he searches for his first teaching job. Like most of us, I guess, I have often thought of life as being primarily a material enterprise – an ongoing struggle, actually, among zillions of material entities (including people) to see who gets the biggest slices of material success. Consequently, it’s easy to get caught up in thinking that Matt is merely one of countless separate, material creatures battling for a miniscule number of satisfying jobs. I'm afraid that’s how I’ve been thinking of it, mostly, including thinking of myself as another separate entity -- pushing, pulling, and engineering Matt toward success. Thankfully, my meditation this morning reminded me that life simply isn’t like that. Life – as Buddha, Jesus, Lao Tzu, and many others have taught – does not in any way conform to our usual materialistic view of it. Life is not in things, but in thoughts. Life is not a struggle among myriad material forces, but rather a dance done by a single fluid, elegant, and eternal power. Matt, then, is not out on the front lines fighting with other candidates for a share of a material prize called “a teaching job”. He couldn’t be, because he’s not a separate material creature. Like all of us, my son is an integral part of the seamless spiritual universe, and as such, nothing can go wrong – not in his interview this morning, and not for the rest of eternity. The universe will continue to dance its lovely, mysterious dance, and Matt. like all of us, will have the great good fortune of being part of the festivity, whatever “job” he happens to land.

JOURNAL: July 11, 2006

Yesterday I had a particularly rewarding exercise session in the park. I fairly bounced up and down the stairs by the pond for a full 45 minutes – sweating, panting, and enjoying myself immensely. The weather was perfect for a workout – temperature in the 70s and a pleasing breeze rustling the trees all around. When I was finished, I sat on a bench and read some of Twelfth Night, occasionally looking around to appreciate the beauty of the early evening coming on. (See pictures.)

JOURNAL: July 11, 2006

Yesterday was a proud day for me as a father. I’ve been helping my youngest son prepare his application package for teaching jobs (he just completed his Masters and student teaching), and yesterday it came to me clearly how impressive he will be as an applicant. He may not get his dream job right away, but there is no doubt that some principal before too long is going to jump at the chance to have Matt teaching at her school. Looking through his cover letter, resume, and letters of recommendation, it’s obvious that he would bring intelligence, experience, preparedness, and – best of all – an unusual kind of worldly wisdom to his classroom. If I were a principal, I would perhaps be most interested in Matt’s non-traditional teaching experience. He has been the director of volunteer services at a homeless shelter, where he had to teach volunteers, including young school children, how to be of service to less fortunate people. In addition, he has taught children in a poor village in Belize, and has been a caseworker at a mental health clinic, where he taught his clients how to survive despite their handicaps. Now, at the age of 33, he is ready to bring that experience, and the wisdom that grew from it, into a classroom of 3rd graders, and the children in his school (wherever it might be) will be fortunate young people. They will have a gentle but strong teacher, a person who intuitively understands that teaching is a mystery and a privilege. Today he goes for his first interview, and I’m sure the interviewers will be nodding their heads in admiration. He may not get this particular job, but a roomful of lucky kids is waiting for him somewhere down the line.

JOURNAL: July 10, 2006

Yesterday I spent some wonderful hours with my two oldest sons and their families. I first drove, very early, to Jaimie and Jessy’s house in the forest in Brooklyn, CT for their usual generous Sunday breakfast. Little Noah (almost 3) greeted me at the door by pointing down to the stone step and saying, “See the toad, Hammy!” Sure enough, a fat and obviously contented toad was squatting not two-feet away from us, peacefully passing the time. (See pictures.) I stepped inside quietly so as not to disturb the family’s friend, and we all enjoyed breakfast together in their lovely kitchen. Later, Noah and I did lots of exploring around the yard, and I finished my visit by reading five books to him as he sat on my lap out under the shade of the big trees. Jaimie and I then drove up to have lunch with Luke. We visited briefly with my youngest grandson, Josh, who is just five weeks old and growing beautifully, and then we drove over to the mall for a hearty lunch at TGI Fridays. It was great fun to sit with the two successful young fathers and talk things over. I felt showered with blessings and feelings of appreciation as I sat there eating my delicious chicken dumplings dipped in sweet sauce.

MEDITATION: "Power"

Power

...exists only in the present, never in the past or future,

... is always mental, never material or physical,

... and therefore has no boundaries, limits, or separations,

...and therefore is always free and communal, never personal,

... and has many names, among them "God", "Allah", "The Tao", and countless others.

JOURNAL: July 9, 2006

Yesterday, I took my car over to the Midas shop to get the brakes fixed, and I found, oddly enough, that they had a picnic table nearby, out in a nicely mowed area beneath a huge shade tree. The mechanic told me he had to send across town for a part, that the whole repair process would take over an hour, and that if I needed to run an errand, I could come back in about 15 minutes when the part should have arrived. I took his offer, drove home and made a full picnic meal (sandwich, chips, cookies, and cold milk), and returned by the time the part had arrived. While the mechanic worked on my brakes, I relaxed in the shade of the tree at the picnic table and enjoyed a splendid summer repast. While I ate, I listened on my iPod to a recording of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night – a delightful accompaniment to my picnic beside the car repair shop.


Now that my youngest son has moved out of my apartment (he secured his Masters degree last month and is ready for a professional career as a teacher), I am happily rearranging things back to my original “bachelor apartment” design. It was a pleasure, in every way, to have Matt with me these last two years (he is an ideal housemate), but it will be nice, too, to now be able to use his bedroom as a guest room. I’ve spent the last two days cleaning, hanging pictures, and generally tidying things up so I’ll be ready to provide a comfortable sleeping space for any potential visitor. Perhaps no visitor will ever come, but it’s good just to be prepared – to know that if someone needs a clean and welcoming place to stay, I have it ready for them.

MEDITATION: "Breezes in an Endless Sky"

As I was walking along the edge of the pond early this morning, thinking over some ideas from my spiritual reading, I realized something important: There is no “me” who makes thoughts. It was an important insight for me, because for my entire life I have assumed, kind of mindlessly, that a separate, physical entity (I usually thought of it as my “brain”) spends its time creating my thoughts. I guess I pictured thought-making as a three-part process involving “me”, my brain, and the thoughts. It’s an assumption that I have carried along with me through the years, without ever carefully examining it to see if it made sense. Well, this morning I realized that it doesn’t. I saw that when a thought arises, it just arises. There’s no separate “me” that makes the thought, because that “me” is, in reality, just another thought. As hard as I try to pinpoint and identify a separate, thought-making entity called “me”, all I ever find is another thought. What this leads me to conclude is that all of reality is simply the continuous unfolding of thoughts. I can’t even call them “my” thoughts, because that would imply that a distinct, isolated, physical entity made them, and I know that entity doesn’t exist. All that exists is thoughts. This universe is nothing else than an infinite thought-making machine. To use an analogy, the universe is like a never-ending sky (no bottom, top, or sides), and all people, events, and “things” are breezes harmoniously moving in this sky – thoughts unfurling in an infinite Mind (some people call it “God”). No breeze makes itself, and no person makes thoughts. Thoughts just arise, and therefore they are not to be “owned”, but simply enjoyed.

JOURNAL: July 8, 2006

Yesterday, a perfectly cool and sunny summer day, I had an especially satisfying exercise session in the park. Carrying my new Kelty day-pack (so light I barely felt it), I climbed the steps by the pond for a full 45 minutes, feeling energetic the entire time. I was also carrying my new fast-drying towel, which I used to wipe off perspiration every so often when I paused in a shady spot. I only needed to pause briefly, however, because I felt so lively, so full of good health. At the end of the session, I rested on a bench beside the pond, close to where the cast was rehearsing for the upcoming production of “Romeo and Juliet”. While I let my heart relax and return to its normal rhythm, I listened on my iPod to a short portion of an excellent audio production of “Twelfth Night”. The water in the pond was quietly moving in the transient breezes, a few gulls were sweeping back and forth overhead, and the poetry of Shakespeare was coming through my headphones as well as from behind me, where the actors were painstakingly practicing their lines.

MEDITATION: "Never Alone, Never Lonely"

I live alone, and because of it, some of my friends and family occasionally express concern for me. I think they find it hard to imagine that a 64-year-old man living by himself wouldn’t find loneliness to be a fairly constant companion. Because I have no other person with me on a regular basis, my friends and family seem to feel that a sense of isolation must be a fairly steady feeling for me. They think that, since I’m physically alone much of the time (my social life is fairly minimal), I must, as a natural consequence, be lonely. The truth, however, is that I almost never feel lonely, and the reason is that I almost never feel alone. When my loved ones think of me as being alone, they are thinking of me as a separate material entity in a universe composed of countless separate material entities -- but I think of myself and the universe in a very different way. I see reality as a single, unified, and harmonious spiritual cosmos – a divine creation that has no separation, and therefore no aloneness. I am no more separate from the person down the street than a breeze at one end of our local park is separate from a breeze at the opposite end. All breezes are part of the infinite system of winds in the universe, and, to me, all people are part of the single, endless system of spiritual creations in the universe. Perhaps I can explain it this way: When I am physically with another person, say at a restaurant having dinner, exactly where does that person exist for me? I see her, and I hear her, and I can even give her a hug, but doesn’t this all take place, actually, in my consciousness? Don’t my eyes transfer the image of her to my brain, where it then registers with my consciousness? And don’t my ears, in the same way, convey the sounds of her voice to my brain, where, again, they are registered in my awareness? (Isn’t this what we all learned in high school science?) Even though she is sitting across a small table from me, don’t I actually experience her in a completely mental way? In other words – and this is quite wonderful to realize -- isn’t she actually as close to me, and as much a part of me, as my own thoughts? The answer, for me, is yes -- and it follows from this that I don’t have to be physically with another person in order to be actually with them. If I’m sitting in my apartment and thinking about my brother who is 2,000 miles away, he exists for me then just as powerfully as he does when I am standing three feet away from him. In either case, he is part of my thinking, and therefore part of me. In either case – and this is the important point – there is no separation. There’s not a physical “me” here and a physical “him” there. There’s just the single, vast, harmonious, spiritual (or mental) universe, of which he and I are essential parts. I want to ask my family and friends: How can I be ever be alone, much less lonely, in such a universe as this?

JOURNAL: July 7. 2006

Yesterday I enjoyed watching a stage of the Tour de France. Since my digital cable box was finally working, I was able to enjoy the sights and excitement of this wonderful bicycle race. I think, as much as anything, I love seeing the scenery as the riders pass through the countryside. These flat stages of the 23-day race can become slightly boring, but the panorama is always rewarding as they charge through old-world villages or cruise through miles of verdant farmland.

I also spent some time at the mall yesterday. That is not normally an enjoyable pastime for me, but I’m in need of some additional clothing for hiking, so I spent an hour or so browsing in a particularly good store. I did manage to make some worthwhile purchases (several “wicking” shirts on sale and two pairs of fast-drying socks), and, when I left the mall, I felt like it had been a surprisingly satisfying experience.

MEDITATION: "Thy Will Be Done"

Today I would like to keep in mind some of Jesus’ most powerful words: Thy will be done. When his suffering was at its height, Jesus was somehow able to remember that the boundless and eternal Universe (which he and other Jews called Yahweh) is in complete control of everything, and that the will of the Universe, not of any individual person, is always carried out. Just at the point when he was probably severely tempted to try to control everything and just get rid of this suffering, he completely gave up control. He yielded. He stepped out of the way and “gave in” to the vast power of Yawheh, the Universe, Allah, the Tao, Presence, God. It must have been a relief to him, actually. I know what it’s like to carry the burden of trying to control every little thing, and to finally set that burden down must bring a great feeling of liberation. Jesus must have felt almost light-hearted after going through the healing process of yielding. Perhaps he realized that, like a wave in the ocean, he had no choice but to relax and allow the vast power underneath and around him to take care of things. Maybe he saw himself as being like a breeze in a forest. A breeze that rustles a few leaves on a particular tree at a specific time on a certain day is not a separate, isolated breeze that is doing the blowing all by itself. Rather, it is part of a vast system of winds that moves, in one way or another, throughout the entire universe. The breeze does what it has to – what the system of winds wills it to do. Today I want to be like a breeze. I want to lighten up, let go, calm down, and just enjoy doing what the great Wind (God) decides I should do.

JOURNAL: July 6, 2006

Yesterday a guy from the cable company came to my apartment to fix my digital TV box, and he ended up staying for nearly two hours. As it turns out, he was a delightful young man and we enjoyed some wonderful conversation while he went about his work. What I noticed right away, as I was letting him into my apartment, was that he introduced himself with a beaming smile. “Hi,” he said as he held out his hand to shake, “I’m Jimmy.” He maintained that smile, to one degree or another, throughout his stay. He was obviously just a friendly person who enjoyed “visiting” with people. Over the course of his stay, as he tinkered with the equipment, talked on his cell with supervisors, and brought in cable box after cable box (mine and the first three he brought in were malfunctioning), I learned that he was from Arkansas, that his wife was sickly from mold and allergies, that he was an Arkansas Razorback fan, that he hated Notre Dame, and that he lived just up the street. With his long legs stretched out, he sat sprawled on my floor, fiddled with wires and cables, and chatted with me in a down-home, amiable manner. (By the way, he finally got everything working, and by the time he left, he had managed to convince me to switch my phone service to his digital company.)

Last night, I had dinner with some dear friends in a charming, antique farm house in North Stonington. I will be traveling in England for a time this coming year, and they wanted to share with me their significant knowledge about the English ways of life. We looked at guide books and old photos, and did a lot of talking and laughing for nearly four hours. It was wonderful to visit with them in their lovely home, and their memories of their England trips stirred up my excitement about my journey.

JOURNAL: July 5, 2006

Yesterday I took another rousing bike ride, along River Road in the early morning haze and down Greenhaven Road to Route 1, and then gradually up the sloping hills to school. It was a silent, windless, muggy morning, and I was drenched with sweat when I got off my bike at school, but it was a fun ride, nonetheless. I felt lively as I climbed the hills and sailed along the flats. My summer riding strength seems to be completely restored, and I feel like I might be ready for some extended rides in the next few weeks. (See pictures, above, for scenes along my route.)

I joined some friends last night for a 4th of July barbecue steak dinner. The evening was warm, so we sat out on their screened porch with only a flickering candle for light as the night’s coolness came on. The steaks and orzo salad were fabulous (the hostess is a chef par excellence), and the friendly conversation couldn’t have been better. Off in the distant darkness, we occasionally heard fireworks exploding as we ate and talked.

ON TEACHING: "Praise and Grace"

The current thinking in educational circles is that praise should be offered only as a reward for certain specific behaviors, but it’s interesting to me that that’s not really how life works. I can receive “praise” in the form of happy, uplifting, and healing thoughts at any time and in any situation, no matter what my behavior has been. I can make the most egregious mistake and in the next instant, if I quiet myself down, I can receive a miraculous influx of healing, reassuring thoughts – thoughts that could easily be called “praise”. A thought might arise and say, “You’re okay, Ham. You made a mistake, but you will learn from it and it will actually make you an even better person.” This is praise of the best kind, and yet it comes to me when I seemingly don’t deserve it. It comes unbidden and apparently unmerited, rising out of some vast well-spring of praise that seems to exist in this universe. Spiritually-minded people would call this kind of praise “grace”, and to them it’s the most powerful force in the cosmos. It’s the gift that comes to us when we need it most – when we’re discouraged, defeated, or when we have simply behaved badly. In fact, grace comes in its strongest form precisely when we have been at our worst. In the depths of sorrow or despondency, we can suddenly feel loved, appreciated, strong, and confident. We can feel praised -- through the infinite power of grace. Perhaps, in my teaching, I need to offer praise the way the universe offers grace. My students don’t need praise just when they do something well. They need it, in fact, most vitally when they do something poorly, because it is then that they ought to be reminded of their basic, irreproachable goodness. My praise should be like a spring of fresh water, always bubbling up for my students, no matter the circumstances might be.

JOURNAL: July 4, 2006

Yesterday, I took my first fairly long bike ride, and it was a wonderful experience from start to finish. I started out early, around 8:00, when the temperature was still cool and the sunshine had not yet strengthened. I rode along the river, keeping an eye on the road but also on the lovely flowers in yards and on the dozens of beautiful boats resting in the quiet river. I stopped a few times to take pictures (see above) and just enjoy the early morning scenes. There were some good-sized hills along the way to school, but I rode them with considerable ease, pumping hard to the top and then breathing deeply and resting myself as I coasted down the other side. I raced up the long gradual incline on Route 1 to the light at North Main, and was glad to be able to bear down almost to the top. (I’ll do even better next time.) The ride brought back all the old great feelings of rides in the past – the feeling of having fresh breezes at your back, of being somehow freer than you are back home, of experiencing life in a more limitless way. Walking is wonderful, but cruising along country roads on a bicycle is a great gift, one I received with gratitude yesterday.

MEDITATION: ""On Doing Nothing by Myself"

Jesus once said that he could do nothing "by himself" -- a statement that seems to go contrary to everything I was taught growing up. I was always told that I could do just about anything by myself. I was told I could "think for myself" (a favorite saying of my elders), and in doing so I would figure out ways to solve problems by myself. This kind of self-reliance, or what might even be called a certain type of "self-ishness", was a cardinal virtue in my community and family. Jesus, two-thousand years ago, apparently had a completely different idea. He felt that he could do absolutely nothing by himself. To him, the so-called "self" -- the entity that was supposedly material, separate, and self-starting -- had no power at all. For him, power was not self-ish, but completely un-selfish. Ir resides not in any separate self, but in the everlasting Self of the cosmos. This is one of the most important truths for me to remember. I need to remind myself, constantly, to relax and "let go", because my "self" never has to do a thing. Indeed, it can't. Only the infinite universe, the one Mind, the Father (as Jesus called it) does anything. Jesus knew that, and so do I.

JOURNAL: written on July 1, 2006

Last night I walked down to the park before dinner to do a little reading. I sat on the hillside overlooking the pond and read a chapter from Dombey and Son and then a few pages from Wordsworth's The Prelude. I've been keeping good notes on both books, so I jotted down a few thoughts when I finished reading. Then I just sat for a while and enjoyed the lovely early evening. The air temperature seemed perfect, and a refreshing breeze was swirling among the trees. I especially enjoyed looking at the way the rich golden light made such beautiful shadows around the trees. I took a few pictures as I sat there. (See above.)

After my typical wonderful night's sleep, I awoke to a 5:00 am phone call from some friends, asking if I would join them for an early walk on the beach. We met at 6:00, walked for about an hour along the brightening morning shore, then sat with coffee along the cool main street of Watch Hill.

MEDITATION: "Letting Events Happen by Themselves"

How silly it would be if I decided I had to "help" my heart beat well, or "organize" my lungs so they'll take in air more efficiently, or "assist" the wind as it blows across my town. It would be utterly ridiculous, of course, because I know that hearts and lungs and winds don't need any help from me. They are perfectly capable of doing whatever they do completely on their own. Whether I am conscious of it or not, and completely without my assistance, my heart pumps, my lungs expand, and the wind blows. For people (like me) who have always believed they personally have to "control" the important things in their lives, this realization is a jolt. There's nothing more important to us than the beating of our hearts, and yet the fact is that it happens without our control or aid of any kind. Even when we are utterly oblivious and uncontrolling, as in sleep, our heart continues doing its vital task. I guess I have to ask myself this question: If this very important task is taken care of without my assistance, what other important tasks are, also? Could it be that most -- even all -- of the essential activities in life happen on their own, sort of automatically? Dawn comes after darkness, summer follows spring, planet earth spins peacefully along through space, the next thought comes to me -- all without my consent or assistance. Perhaps I should relax, take a breath, and sit back and watch. After all, the really critical activities seem to be happening quite well without me.

JOURNAL: July 3,2006

I suddenly realized this morning how fortunate I am to be renting a spacious, comfortable suite of rooms in a hotel right next to a lovely park and a short five-minute drive from one of the most beautiful ocean beaches in the world – and paying only $20 per night! Plus...I’ll be here for another full year, at least! Well, truth is, I’m just renting what’s usually called an “apartment”, and that’s the way I normally think of it – simply a small, commonplace apartment for which I pay a monthly rent of $600. However, today I’m thinking of it in a new and exciting way – as a hotel suite in one of the vacation hotspots of the western hemisphere. After all, people journey thousands of miles to stay a few days near the Rhode Island beaches, and here I am, nestled in my spacious, airy, clean rooms and looking forward to a stay of a year or more! At any given moment, I can take a one-minute walk to one of the most beautiful parks I have ever seen, or take a five-mile drive to spectacular beaches, or merely stroll down the street for a cappucino in the quaint village near my “hotel”. Strangely enough, my apartment building actually looks like it was once a small hotel, perhaps in the early part of the last century. There are three floors, each with a central corridor, and it’s not hard to picture tourists, years ago, unloading their bags from taxis and preparing for a cozy week’s sojourn near the shore. I, now, am one of those tourists. I tell myself I’m just “visiting” this lovely resort area of Westerly and Watch Hill (albeit for a year or more). I walk through my good-looking rooms, admiring the lovely flowers on the coffee table and wondering whether I should spend today at the beach, at the park, or just on one of the benches along the river, reading Dickens and Wordsworth and thinking pleasant thoughts. Lucky me.

MEDITATION: "Going with the Flow"

Sometimes I start thinking I need to try to know and do the will of God, but then I remind myself that I actually have no choice: I must do the will of God. Whether I always realize it or not, I am part of an infinite Universe that has been creating itself for eons and will continue to do so for all eternity. As such, strange as it sounds, I don’t actually need to make any effort to understand or do anything. The Universe makes all the effort and does all the doing. Being a part of this vast, harmonious universe, “I” just follow along. It’s similar to sunlight. A ray of light doesn’t have to “try” to be bright and warm. We see that as a silly idea, because a ray of sunlight simply is bright and warm, by its very nature. All it has to do, in a sense, is relax and be what it is. The same is true for me. Being a creation of the eternal spiritual Universe (to which some people give the name God, and others Allah), I have no choice but to be whatever the Universe wants me to be. I often pretend that I have a choice -- that I can “think for myself” – but the wonderful truth is that all the thinking is done for me. Thoughts flow ceaselessly like Niagara Falls. All I have to do is loosen up, yield, and “go with the flow”.

MEDITATION: "What Really Matters"

Someone once said that everything should be honored, but nothing matters – a truth I have been thinking a lot about this morning. I was sitting down in the park beside the pond as the sun began to spread its light among the trees, and I thought, yes, everything should be honored. Every single moment, every event, every situation, every person, every thought should be venerated as though it is a priceless miracle, because it is. Whatever the universe decides to unfold (whether we humans label it “good” or “bad”) is a marvel worth our reverence and respect. However, this doesn’t mean that anything really “matters”, or at least that any one part of creation matters more than any other. In the kind of cosmos that we live in, which is endless and infinitely complex but also utterly unified and harmonious, no facet of it is more important than any other. Everything, from the farthest star to the tiniest atom, is of equal value and significance. Everything “matters” equally, which means, in a sense, that nothing (no thing) really matters. What does really matter is the entire unified, harmonious universe, which has been successfully creating itself for untold eons, and which will continue to do so for all eternity. Instead of thinking that I have to “take care” or 'control" each present moment because everything “matters”, I should focus my attention on appreciating the astonishing creations of the universe. Instead of taking things “seriously”, perhaps I should just take them happily and gratefully.

MEDITATION: "Being Non-Judgmental"

One of the best habits I can develop in the future is being non-judgmental -- but it won’t be easy. I have been an incorrigible “judge” on a daily, hourly, and moment-by-moment basis for my entire life. I constantly assess every aspect of my life as to whether it’s good or bad, helpful or not helpful, harmless or dangerous. The way I continually pass judgment, I may as well go around in judge’s robes with a gavel in my hand. It’s truly odd that I would set myself up as a judge, given the fact that I have no particular wisdom with which to pass judgment on whether a present moment is good for me or not. How can one isolated individual in this endless universe possibly know enough to assess the value of a given situation? Since there are an incalculable number of possible ramifications for every occurrence in my life, how can I, a mere mortal, pretend to be able to decide which occurrences will be ultimately good for me, and which will be bad? It’s actually shocking to me to think I have spent so much time – most of my waking hours – sitting in judgment on everything, from people to events to situations. It’s shocking because it tells me I have missed an enormous amount of the wonder of life by being so focused on handing down verdicts. While I was habitually deciding if each single moment in my life was a good or bad one, these glorious moments were flashing right past me. What I need to do is develop another habit – the habit of being non-judgmental. I need to realize that each and every moment this universe creates is somehow appropriate, useful, and beautiful. Instead of judging, I need to accept. Instead of being opinionated about everything that happens to me, I need to practice being constantly amazed.