Hiding in plain sight

The weeks are riding easily on the backs of days, sliding by. Meanwhile these juggering days etch their grooves into the surfaces of my memory. I pace down each rut, open to something previously tucked in around the corner. My view has become, in the last year at least, that we make the meaning as we look into the moments and the memories. When I stumble over the new meaning I am teasing it out from myself, not from the event. The tricky bit of that is stating it this way to get my meaning out to you while I know also that "out from myself" is not separate from "out from the event" or "out from the past". I am brought about by the causes and conditions of what is.

I make the meaning.


It makes the meaning.


We make the meaning.


The meaning is made by the systems of Its.


The meaning is hiding in plain sight.


Four weeks have gone.


What's to come?

[4 x 7 days]

Show me the doors

Had a rare field trip today. Went to one of the "old buildings" that my employer still has offices in, a building I and my group used to frequent on a daily basis 10 years and more ago. I took the opportunity to walk across downtown Oakland from the lake and the Kaiser center to the Lake Merritt station area.


Encountered the Heron perched on the traffic sign. There are usually quite a few Herons mixed in with the other types of birds at the Lake Merritt Bird Refuge. They seem to be slow birds, reacting to movement more than perception -- I'm contrasting them with Seagulls, which seem very perceptive before they act. So what was this Heron telling me today as I journeyed to my old familiar destination? Turn left perhaps.

Before I could bring myself into the building waiting for my computer support, I was drawn to these old Oakland houses, neighbors of the Open Door Mission on Oak St. Lovely light for this snapshot. How buildings such as these survive the economic tides is a mystery to me, a charming mystery.


There are doors everywhere for us to step through. Sometimes there are only doors.

Trying to be someone not trying to be anything, or Meeting yourself on the way down.

Last hours of a difficult week, the afternoon light dims as the trees turn into silhouettes against the still-light-blue sky. The hardest week so far. The challenge has been to meet myself in these circumstances. "There he is. This is what you are." Hold the mirror up, the most difficult thing is to use the mirror that doesn't judge or add a commentary. You have to trust it without feeding on the image.

My late wife, Kim, "is everywhere". I can hardly drive down a street without some strong recollection of Kim being by my side, visiting the dollar store a few weeks ago or the hundreds of times I accompanied her to that hardware store since we moved up to this area. Our home is nearly all Kim, Kim interrupted. It is all still so fresh for me; there were things she was doing and saying just weeks ago that would have put her here in this week and next and next week. Her decision to plan and execute a successful suicide was long in coming and brief in choosing. And all the possible reasons that were my part in it pale in sadness when I think instead of what I knew of her feelings and her despairing point of view. I am sad for her to not see this day, to not have a cat to cuddle, to not have an idle moment of boredom. I have cried a week's worth of tears because of the sadness she left me with, stranded. Now looking back, she was not a little child but she seems like one, with a fierce guardian determined to save her from further pain at all costs, the ultimate cost. Beautiful child. If only we knew what it meant to her, if only we saw through her eyes for just one moment. It was not to be, not to be more for us. We go on to our own days, limited as they are.

Compounding my pain has been the loss of companionship with my closest friend, E. I pray for guidance to be a better friend in the future and that E will reach out at that time. And always that her days are full and free. I have other good friends, but I felt alone with myself this week despite their best efforts. Turn it over, as glib as that seems, I must. I miss E.

This sad and lonesome state I'm in is nearly madness. What is the message for me? What meaning can I find in these changes, other than sadness and loneliness?

Mini-geographic attempts at sanity today

Went for a drive up the delta to Isleton for yummy and healthy lunch. River's Edge Cafe, on the old Main St. off Hwy 160. Roast turkey sandwich on their housemade foccacia with deliciously seasoned creamy dressing, and mixed greens salad with Lil's signature Garlic Walnut Vinigarette. Then delicious housemade apple coffee cake, real cake with lots of baked cinnamon. Very pleasant and calm atmosphere, and all the tables were in use. Beautiful weather, beautiful day on the delta.




Took a nap. That was OK, not very successful. I had a clear vision of Shell Ridge in my mind and headed up for a hike. Listened to Ven. Ajahn Sucitto speaking about the challenge of meeting yourself, of becoming and letting it go instead of clinging and feeding on the image. Some peace, much reflection, a deeply contemplative walk in a most beautiful location.








I couldn't stop crying as I drove down the familiar streets toward home. How can an absence be so solid? Time for a late dinner and then to bed to sleep.

I miss Kim.

Zazie

Mr. Big Nose goes to Zazie. Tonight, leaving work in downtown Oakland, like so many other evenings, I had the impulse to take the train west instead of east to home. Tonight I went west to San Francisco.

The SF trains at 5:10pm are not as packed as the Pittsburg/Baypoint trains. I was comfortable standing, which I usually do whether a seat is available or not, and listening to my iPod. I got a seat anyway, why not? I skipped the David Sylvian and gave Crowded House a spin, something a little more lively than my usual listening.

Dumping out at Embarcadero station, I causally made my way through the crowded platform to the up escalator, taking my time to feel being in the crowd and looking at faces and bodies and clothes and movements and sounds, and most of all at the interactions between people -- friends and strangers. The Embarcadero BART station is different from all the other San Francisco downtown underground stations in that it was not originally planned to exist before the tunnel was dug, and this resulted in the space between the track lines being less than the usual platform size -- it is a narrow platform, making the crowd all the more intimate.

At the Embarcadero the MUNI system has its one $1 and $5 change machine, only one in either MUNI or BART. BART has a $10 and $20 changer that gives $5s. MUNI fare is $1.50. I found out that this is the one $5 change machine in the system by assuming it was not the only one and going to a different station and not finding one. Now I have a pocket full of Golden Dollars.

Speaking of intimate crowds, the MUNI system was jammed by a car breakdown between Embarcadero and the next station, Montgomery. Quite a thick crowd, with train operators walking around the platform while their cars idled calling out to everyone personalized status reports. This in addition to the blasting public address announcements. The crowd was cool and interesting to watch. Downtown San Francisco metro station at 5:45pm on a Friday. Nice people watching. I felt good, I was smiling a big grin, which I realized only when people started to grin back at me.

My N-Judah line cars were packed. More getting-to-know-you public transit. I feared for my wallet, in my jean's hip pocket, for about 2 seconds. These are my neighbors, very much locals making their way around town on the MUNI. I could have lost my wallet, but it would have somehow been OK. (No, it would have been titanic drag for days. Moron.) I've had some very good adventures on the N-Judah MUNI line. Feels like I'm home when I ride it.

Dumped out, literally, at Cole Street. This occurs just after the tunnel after the Duboce dog park, in front of the sidewalk seats for the local BurgerMeister. I stood while the crowd disembarked and moved around me down the sidewalk to the corner, people then going in every direction. Cold wind, like Oakland, as I made my way through the Carl and Cole intersection. Forgot my warm scarf this morning. Couples filing into the various restaurants, I made my way up Cole to Zazie. Dogs always dot these sidewalks, mindful pets.

I took the heated patio option. The restaurant interior is very pleasant. Cozy, a bit tight. When I last went with Kim she wore her mink coat and had a hard time walking between the tables and figuring out where to hang it up. A nice smallish splash of local customers, it was about 6pm. Zazie is very much a Cole Valley neighborhood spot. Pleasant waiter. I had a mixed green salad and the hanger steak, medium rare, with mashed potatoes and asparagus (I was expecting creamed spinach). It was all just right, I skipped dessert. A delicious, large meal to wash down a difficult week. Going home was a comfortable blur. Time to rest and recuperate and digest.

Change

Sunset on Carquinez Strait, April 23, 2009

The topic with my friends tonight was, "Change, as in: accepting what you cannot change, courage to change what you can, and wisdom to know the difference". I heard many personal lessons about this topic tonight, and my own experience came into focus as only good-listener friends can do to your mind.

Kim is gone. She was here just a short while ago. I can feel the slight breeze from her opening the door and shutting it behind her. But that's not the case at all. Kim is gone three weeks now. All my plans for change up until that day must change. I've got to see what's in front of me, to face the reality of what's here now, and I've got to do it all without Kim.

There are many positive aspects to my current situation. My health is good, thank goodness! Our son is wonderful, thanks to him! I've got a good job, the house is workable, I can pay the mortgage, the car is running, I have many good and close friends. I have reasons to view the future as offering positive potentials, I've got choices where I recently seemed to only have compulsions. I just have to do this without Kim.

All things considered, on this day, Kim's death and absence is in reality an Earth-cracking change in my life. Thankfully my space is not crushed with despair, instead it is open to and suffused with deep sadness. She so enriched my life that I feel I will be sad to be without her until my very last moment. I have felt the sadness these weeks but overlooked and crowded it with my previous schemes and activities and intentions. But that's changed. I am comforted knowing there'll be more change to come.

May this change's message be one of healing.

[3 x 7 days]

Faith

Two weeks

Quiet
by Paul Simon

I am heading for a time of quiet
When my restlessness is past
And I can lie down on my blanket
And release my fists at last

I am heading for a time of solitude
Of peace without illusions
When the perfect circle
Marries all beginnings and conclusions

And when they say
That you're not good enough
Well the answer is
You're not
But who are they
Or what is it
That eats at what you've got
With the hunger of ambition
For the change inside the purse
They are handcuffs on the soul, my friends
Handcuffs on the soul
And worse

I am heading for a place of quiet
Where the sage and sweetgrass grow
By a lake of sacred water
From the mountain's melted snow

I need to talk today, personally. Where I am at, what is now happening.

Intrusive thoughts are being triggered by other people's word here, word there. Hospital, yard-sale, meeting. People are talking about other matters, their matters, and I am listening normally, but for me, very distractingly, up comes the difficult images and recollections when certain words are transmitted. A word is enough of a prick when you are tender. New scab, weak membrane, strains to cover the wound.

Out to lunch. It's Friday. The friendly gang make arrangements and off we go to Barney's on Piedmont. Nice, sitting on the patio this beautiful and cool spring day. Talk of business, union and mgmt scuttlebutt, office gossip. Just what I hoped for. Find myself laughing, cursing with the rest of them, talking about food and busy waitress. Where's the salt and pepper, no salt and pepper? Flash, hospital emergency room. Having fun? No one at home to discuss this question with, to wonder out loud, "Should I not be like this?" She has answered all our remaining questions with one message. What was she saying, and was she saying it to us or to who...?

I'm gaining weight again. I've lost 20 pounds since January, now I can feel it building back up just since Wednesday morning. Cravings on the edge of my attention.

What attachment is holding me back? From where does it come? Snagged. Let go. Let the wheel keep turning without friction, without rough sparks. I've had enough sparks. Rumination, my old companion, sit and have some Assam with me. Clarity, let go of the source, realize the insubstance of this. Please help me.

Preceded by perception are mental states,
For them is perception supreme,
From perception have they sprung.
If, with perception polluted, one speaks or acts,
Thence suffering follows
As a wheel the draught ox's foot.

Preceded by perception are mental states,
For them is perception supreme,
From perception have they sprung.
If, with tranquil perception, one speaks or acts,
Thence ease follows
As a shadow that never departs.

(The One Thus Gone, opening verses of the Dhammapada)

What a relief to be asked a question, to be asked for help. Whether or not I can deliver the answer, I can respond with service. The ease of saying "Yes, let's work on it" is a balm that calms my mind and soothes my aches. The miracle of "We" has many benefits, sometimes tranquility is one.

Never alone again, never alone before.

More later. More to come.

[2 x 7 days]

Better knock that off right now, buster!

Whoever destroys living beings, speaks false words, who in the world takes that which is not given to him, or goes too with another's wife, or takes distilled, fermented drinks — whatever man indulges thus extirpates the roots of himself even here in this very world.

Confess your hidden faults. Approach what you find repulsive. Help those you don't want to help. Anything you are attached to, let it go. Go to places that scare you.

Every ending, a beginning

And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you're blown apart
Everybody feels the wind blow...
For reasons I cannot explain
There's some part of me wants to see
Graceland
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now
Maybe I've a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland

-Paul Simon

Kimberly Ann Smith

My wife, my lover, the mother of our son, my best friend, my soul mate, my major frustration and my muse for living, on her 51st birthday, passed away this afternoon. Here are some of my memories of Kim.