An ongoing blog from Barbara Brodsky.

One son and grandson arrived back here Jan 1 to 3, enroute to driving him from upstate NY back to MN to college. With them sleeping in my office, no writing… My meditation these last 2 days have been a mix of joy and sorrow. So wonderful to have these two dear ones here with me and simultaneously filled with anguish for our world. I’d wish for a world run by open hearts and international  law, not by craving for ego power and money. That song from Pete Seeger, “Where have all the flowers gone?”, has been my early music this week. In that song, “flowers picked by girls are linked to men going to war, men going to war are linked to soldiers, soldiers to graves, and graves to flowers, creating a cyclical lament for lost generations”, asking “When will we ever learn?”.

Where have all the flowers gone?  Long time passing.
Where have all the flowers gone?  Long time ago.
Where have all the flowers gone?  The girls have picked them every one.
Oh, when will we ever learn? Oh, when will we ever learn?

Young girls: They’ve taken husbands every one.

Young men: Gone to soldiers, every one.

Soldiers: They’ve gone to graveyards every one.

Graveyards: Gone to flowers, every one.                                                                                                      

Flowers:  Young girls have picked them every one.

Meditation: Watching the tension in my mind and body, my frustration at our human race. Aaron reminds me that frustration may be balanced by compassion. We’re not necessarily here on earth to “get it right” but to open our hearts with compassion. “But Aaron,” I said. “If we don’t get it right, we’ll destroy ourselves and the earth.” He gently pointed out to me that Earth was co-created as our school room. If the school is destroyed the lessons will continue, but perhaps in a less pleasant schoolroom.  “What is the predominant lesson here and now?” he asked. “The power of love as free will choice,” I replied. And from Aaron:  “And what best supports that love, feeding your anger as you feed your fire or choosing to remember the compassionate heart? Now it would be wise to put aside all this angst and meditate!”

Watching the tension in body and breath, and Aaron’s so often stated: “That which is aware of tension is not tense.” Inviting that awareness is a powerful act of compassion. Gradually tension falls away. The open heart remains.