The Five Remembrances February 4, 2015

A few years ago, I participated in a Zen/Yoga retreat at Tassajara.  Our teacher Linda Cutts shared a powerful teaching known as the Five Remembrances. When I find myself in a challenging personal situation, I think on these words.  Perhaps they will be helpful to you, too.

I am of the nature to grow old. There is no way to escape growing old.

I am of the nature to have ill health. There is no way to escape ill health.

I am of the nature to die. There is no way to escape death.

All that is dear to me and everyone I love are of the nature to change. There is no way to escape being separated from them.

My actions are my only true belongings. I cannot escape the consequences of my actions. My actions are the ground upon which I stand.

Catching up February 3, 2015

It has been nearly three months since I have written.  Life’s troubles have made my posts infrequent and stunted my progress in post-retirement self-discovery.

Still, I am inching my way toward a new path. In December, I crafted a portfolio (using my embryonic skills with InDesign) and applied to two Master of Architecture programs.  This came on the heels of a course in digital tools for architecture and another on color theory.  I came to my senses and restricted my applications to schools in the Bay Area, reluctantly relaxing my reins to the alma mater of my doctorate – MIT.  At this moment, I am simply too fragile to contemplate leaving behind the love of my supportive friends and the familiarity of my rich environment. 

Late December through late January brought multiple rounds of family woes so devastating that nothing else could be considered.  But now I find myself enrolled again in two classes – painting and architecture – trying to find some structure and meaning for my life.

But I have started to contemplate an alternate reality. What would it be like to “just be”?  To not have a path, to not want a path?  I can’t imagine this, but it would be a perfectly valid way to live a life.  Could I do that?  Should I do that?  

The gray day November 12, 2014

Today’s weather finally matched my mood: foul.  Gray sky, wind, a chill in the air, a departure from the beautiful months we have been enjoying at the expense of drought.  Indeed, this fine autumn has buoyed me to the extent that it could, and today I let myself sink into the reality of living in a family and a world besieged by addiction.  I know I am not alone in weathering this madness.  Somewhere on the order of 10-15% of Americans are addicted to drugs or alcohols, and that means that many families are dealing with the same tragedy of withered lives.

I have been trying hard to hold it together, dutiful with my classes, attentive to my meditation cushion, singing with others, realigning with yoga, writing my interviews, walking with friends.  I am also trying to plan for my future, attempting to carve something out of almost nothing in a force of will and a conviction that complete absorption will keep me afloat.  But I rage at our society and those closest to me who chose to ignore the danger of drugs, devouring themselves and others in the process.

Near the end of his life, my late husband said that it was very difficult to fight like hell to stay alive, yet at the same time prepare himself death.  I feel that I am doing that now, too: struggling to help, yet preparing for loss.  It is indeed a terrible thing to witness and to endure.