Joey the cat’s safe space is in my office rafters, and Willow’s is on her bed; both caught in fear. Yet last night, 60 hours after Willow arrived, each emerged, drawn by the warmth of companionship. I wish I could have caught a photo of them touching, nose to nose. It was a very sweet moment. I think they’ll become close friends.
From Wednesday Feb. 1, 1995 book portion
Aaron: We said that the experience of the sun is distorted by the atmosphere and yet you can directly experience the sun. Once you know that it’s distorted by the atmosphere, you don’t attempt to transcend the atmosphere; you merely know that its presence influences the reality. You know the heat and light are not only attributes of the sun, but they are part of the essence of the sun conveyed to this mind/ body. You don’t have to be burned to nothing by the sun to experience that it’s hot. This heat is still only an attribute of the sun and not the entirety of the sun.
You cannot experience the entirety of God but you can begin to experience attributes of God. You do that by noting what serves as distorting filter, relaxing any aversion to that distorting filter, in a sense penetrating through the filter to the direct experience. It’s not that the filter is not there but, because there’s no longer contraction of the energy field fighting with the distortion, you simply move through the distortion, balance it, in effect, with wisdom and love.
February 3, 1995: At Aaron’s suggestion I am re-reading from old journals:
Journal, Oct. 94: Reading this morning at breakfast, Andrew Harvey in “Inquiring Mind,” talking about visiting a “rat temple”, and of the horror of seeing thousands of rats. Accept all! No duality. When he came out there was a naked yogi sitting in a puddle of his own feces. The yogi smeared feces on his (yogi’s) face and into mouth and smiled at Andrew. Strong teaching, Andrew says. Yogi was saying, “You’re still in duality. You want a nice sweet, harmonious yoga. You don’t know anything about life, because life is going to ask you to eat the shit of death, to eat the shit of loneliness, to eat the shit of loss. And unless you’re able to eat all that shit, you will never come to that divine place…where you’ll be dancing for creation and destruction at the same moment.”
Reading this morning it struck me that I’m still bargaining not to eat all that shit. There’s a little fantasy going on, if I do it “right” there may still be illness, old age, death but that none of these is going to taste like shit. Shit with the maple syrup of “good practice” on it so I don’t have to taste the putridness. “Good practice” is going to transform my taste buds. Nope, if you’ve got shit, it still tastes like shit. You have got to give up all hope that you can make it taste different and just be willing to eat what’s there. Then it just moves through you and war with it ceases.”
One taste, sugar and shit but one is sweet and one putrid. ‘One taste’ is not in the tongue’s recognition but in the heart’s remaining open. One taste in all life, be it joy or sorrow, shit or sugar. No duality. I look at my experiences of lovingkindness and anger. Sweet and putrid. One taste. I don’t have to get rid of the putrid, can’t get rid of it. It’s just the waves on the surface, nothing to be riled over.
Back to today: What is the direct experience we may have of the divine? And what of our tastes of hell? Yesterday late morning, a beautiful day, I sat on the deck with Hal. The sugar was in the sweetness of the moment, perfect weather, good meal, able to communicate better than I sometimes can with him; he was present, smiling. We played a game, one that is challenging; we were able to talk about a number of things – our own feelings, politics, plans, enjoying and laughing at the dogs antics…with his attentive thumbs up/ down replies. He was truly present. Then the afternoon caregiver arrived and we talked about plans. He repeated he felt he could no longer do standing transfers with Hal (as we had discussed last week too, so no surprise) and could not get him in and out of the pool as he’s done for 6 years. I knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Hal is older, weaker, and can no longer be moved without a mechanical lift. A month of PT this summer led the therapist to say he has plateaued.
Hal has lived 8 ½ years since the stroke that was to have killed him, 6 ½ of those years at home. It’s been hard work for us both, yet he has been happy, and me happy to continue our lives together, since 1965. Sixty-one years! What comes next? It’s really not in my control, no matter what I want! No matter what Hal wants. The bodies will be bodies, ageing, through sickness and eventually death. The hardness of that truth reflects back the joy of our lives together- sugar and shit; one taste!
Some of you must have read Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet long ago, as I did.
“When you are sorrowful, look again
and see that you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
What comes next? I can plan, make the effort to co-create something wholesome, but I also need to hold the intentions without grasping. So does Hal. Joy and sorrow, one taste.
The patio tomato plant filled with extremely sweet, tasty tomatoes.
Next month brings frost here in Michigan!
Willow update: she is less afraid today
Everything changes, day by day!