Why Read....Books?

Thank you Kindle, for being built by a bored teenager in an impoverished part of the world (most likely) and breaking down in a way that my WCE * husband could not fix...even with his high-powered safety googles and very tiny screwdrivers.  Apparently, I just need to call Amazon and they will send out a replacement but the universe is talking to me, through imperfect products, and I'm listening:

Universe:  What were you reading on Kindle that you miss?
Me:  Not much, I downloaded the entire Game of Thrones series which included murder, incest, rape, and naked princesses. 
Universe:  What have you picked up at the library since your Kindle went offline?
Me:  Biographies of Margaret Sanger and Kurt Vonnegut, a book on Buddhism, and some Irish short stories.
Universe:  Hmmmmm
Me:  What are you saying, Universe, that the Kindle's choices are mainstream and that I have to pick up an actual book and see if it calls to me?
Universe:  No, I'm wondering how the the last book in the series turns out.

Regardless of the smart ass universe, I'm not sure I liked what I was reading on the Kindle.  The choices overwhelmed me and for whatever reason, I picked down, not up.  I was talking to my buddy about reading and why we do it and we came to the conclusion that we all read for different reasons.  She beautifully stated that she reads to be moved.  I think I read to know more about what we all share.  The best writers transcend their culture and place and speak a universal truth.  The best example of that for me this year was The Elegance of the Hedgehog.  Stop reading this silly blog and order it on your Kindle, right now:)

May the new year be filled with transcendental books, and of course, the next one in the Game of Thrones.

*World Class Engineer

Dear Santa

Dear Santa:

I love all the stuff you give me, every year.  So I'm writing this note to ask you a couple questions.  Like:

1.  Do you have any pets? (besides reindeer)

2.  Do you ever get sick after eating so many cookies?

3.  Do you have back-up reindeer? (if one gets sick or dies)

4.  How many people usually get on the naughty list?

5.  Do grown-ups get presents?

6.  Do you ever shave?

From Emma...please write back
PS.  Am I on the naughty list?

HO  HO HO

I do have some penguins-
You and Luke never make the naughty list
I'm off to Jersey,
Thanks for the cookies
                                   --SC

Merry Christmas Everyone, may the wonder continue throughout the year!

Updated Version of 12 Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  I think we can do it this year.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  100 postage stamps?
On the third day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  darts can be safe .
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  are you sure you want flannel?
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  I may explode. 
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  I hope it's not Strep.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  It's all my high school buddies.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love said to me: Tequila hits the spot.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love said to me: The tupperware's on fire.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  What do you want for Christmas?
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  Time to hang the lights
On the twelve day of Christmas, my true love said to me:  We are very lucky.


All true and please sing it out at the top of your lungs:)

Sadly, there is now wax in the hummus

So, we are in the Tsunami party season.  We kicked it off last week-end with a rollerskating party for 18 eight year olds and I consider it a personal success story that we only needed one icepack.  I consider it a personal failure, after my years of skate ranch experience in Lubbock, Texas, that I could not out skate aforementioned eight year olds, not one of them.  Something about their starting hockey at age three gives them the hometown advantage.  After the skating birthday party, we moved into pageant practice.  This year's pageant is a morality tale focusing on the Tinsel children and featuring my son as a:

Shrub.  He nailed it in practice.  They hit their marks, yes they have marks, and they projected into the wee hours.  All of that will not make one whit of difference tomorrow morning but it gave us something to do on a Wednesday evening.  It was especially fun to keep them from running around on the seductive wooden floor as the yoga class downstairs was entering into shavasana.  Namaste from all of us.

Next in line are the yearly holiday parties:  baking cookies for the swaps, buying a brilliant gift for the Yankee swap...one for all the discerning gals at the neighborhood party and one for my husband's family party with the theme "Occupy Boston" with not one word of explanation.  Next comes the clarifying call to another friend....do we exchange Christmas gifts or just birthday gifts?  I feel the slide into the Christmas Zone.  Packages wrapped and sent off to Texas?  Pictures taken for Christmas card?  Seven relatives emailing for suggestions on gifts for the kids and telling them all the exact same thing?  Half-finished advent tree?  I am standing on familiar ground.

Today, these snippets of conversation captured it all.  I will not bother telling you that I am going to relax and enjoy the season.  The best I can offer is to try and laugh about it all once or twice:)

I'm not sure fake poo is the way to go (me)
That is way too fancy for a rugby player (my daughter)
This is my blue book, I need to write that down in my red book (my husband)
Doubles tennis, anyone? (my son)
Sadly, there is now wax in the hummus (me)

Good luck to us all.

Sands of Time

Much has happened in the last week.  My husband's company shut their doors for good last Friday, and he joined the ranks of Americans struggling to find work and security in these turbulent times.  But, as the universe is wont to do, it sent some monks my way to help me keep perspective.  The Gaden Jangtse Tibetan monks are traveling throughout the country for a year, building medicine sand mandalas and educating us about the ongoing plight of Tibetans who are denied religious freedom in Tibet.

So the monks came to our church and seven of them spent a week building the mandala.  They used small brass tubes and amazing technique which takes 6 years to learn.  We joined them mid-week and Luke pronounced the whole process "awe-inspiring."  Indeed.  On Sunday, they joined our service and it was quite fun to watch our minister metaphysically arm wrestle with the lama for control of the service.  I learned that lamas are pretty good at metaphysical arm wrestling.  At the end of the service, the lama blessed both of my children.  What a gift.

That afternoon, there was a formal ceremony where the monks undo all that they have done in the previous week.  The chanting and music was beautiful, and we all left with some of the sand.  It is quite auspicious for your next life to have the sand placed on your corpse.  I'm in.  Several of my non-Buddhist friends have asked about the meaning of the ceremony...why sweep away such beauty?

The first noble truth of Buddhist theology is that life is suffering....we can't escape it.  Suffering is caused by attachment.  Attachment to a job or a way of life.  It will change and end and you must flow with those changes.  Be in the moment but don't cling to what was.  Scott came over mid-week and watched the mandala being created.  He also joined us for the ending ceremony.  He and his coworkers were doing good work, building solar panels and trying to move the world closer to renewable energy as a viable energy alternative.  It is a great sadness to see that work swept away.  But just as the monks travel on to a new city and create new energy and patterns, so will the engineers/technicians of Evergreen Solar.  Here is to the journey:)

Notes from the Pew

So much to stuff into an entry when you are only writing every other week:)  A few things have happened:  the kids and I got lost on the way to the bookstore to pick up the latest copy in the Ranger Apprentice series, ended up in the projects and the locals threw yellow paint all over the car as we were touring through....I have been deconstructing this event in my mind since it happened.  It threw me.  It threw my kids.  We had to have a tough conversation about class, urban life, violence, parenting, and compassion.  What a suburban tale, really, lost in the projects on the way to the bookstore. 

Then, we went to the Cape and had a wonderful time, frolicking on the beach in the off season.  I have always been drawn to the water when the people leave.  I spent a winter in Gloucester in a summer home, powered by a wood stove just trying to stay warm.  I walked the beach every morning and found such peace.  My partner at the time nearly went insane with the solitude.  Each to their own.

Today, it was back in the saddle, teaching RE.  Our topic was the question "what is prayer?"  Here is what my beautiful class came up with:

Prayer is when you are talking to the Gods....you don't really get an answer sometimes but
it feels good to keep trying.

Ain't it the truth.

Here is my favorite Buddhist prayer:

May I be filled with lovingkindness.
May I be well.
May I be peaceful and at ease.
May I be happy.

May you be filled with lovingkindness.
May you be well.
May you be peaceful and at ease.
May you be happy.

May we be filled with lovingkindness.
May we be well.
May we be peaceful and at ease.
May we be happy.

It is Raining Geraniums

We all turn into our elders.  It is only a matter of time.  One of my favorite dad stories is the time he sat me down to talk to me about being more aware of my surroundings and encouraged me to slow down and think before I sped from one thing to the next.  I nodded in agreement, willing the lecture to be over;  "I get it, I get it."  As he nodded that I could go, I shot up and hit the hanging plant over my head, shattering the pot and raining down dirt and geraniums on both our heads.  The next nod I got was one of resignation.

Now, I am giving the speeches, and they are so very good and equally effective.  Today's classic response to one of those eloquent speeches that I have given 30 times before was "I never heard you say that before."  Just like I never heard my parents, until right about now.

Kids are karma, your very own spiritual teachers reminding you of you...the younger you, the you that sped through life without a care in the world, trusting your parents would pick up the pieces, which they did, time and time again.  My mom pushing us to be compassionate, my dad pushing us to "do right" and my grandmother pushing a spiritual path.  What a pushy group.  So as I sit here, watching a foot of snow fall in October, I am thankful for who I am turning into.....it was my grandfather's voice telling me to fill my car up with gas before the storm.  I am especially grateful for those voices when it is raining geraniums.  Bring it on my little campers, I was taught by the best.