A couple of lessons about gratitude from me and my pal, Rumi

I have thrombophlebitis in my arm, which is a very painful, inflamed, swollen blood vein. It's plainly visible by looking at it; the skin is red and blue and purple, and raised, and to touch the skin, it feels as if there's a tiny bungee cord under there, taut and rubbery. And hot. And so painful that even visualizing touching it makes it hurt. Okay, enough with the symptoms, because it sounds pathetic and whiny, and I've had my pity party already and moved on.

Sometimes caused as a result of clotting, sometimes of injuries (not unlike the injuries I sustained on Monday by putting my heavy bicycle on the bus and falling over it whilst loading it into and unloading it from the estranger's van). I would estimate this to to be the fifth time I've had phlebitis in this same place alone, not to mention many single-phlebitis incidents (plebe-itis? *groan*) in a few other spots.

I called to make a doctor's appointment; the fact that I had the embolism in April and am not currently being treated with coumadin because my doctor insisted I see a rheumatologist, a gastroenterologist, and a pulmonolgist before he would continue to treat me with blood-thinners would be cause to see me sooner, I would think, but so far, so good. I understand where he's coming from...I know he would probably feel partially responsible if something beside a clot gets me. But he doesn't seem to understand that I will sign whatever I have to sign to keep him free of liability, completely and of my own free will, because I don't want to be treated for all the other stuff...treated to death. I vowed to treat the clots, but I will not fall down another rabbit hole, chasing empty promises and experiments that have only served to make my body more tired or fighting yet another symptom caused by a medication. I know what mild medications I need. If this doctor won't treat me respecting my wishes, I'll make an appointment to the only other doctor, who practices inb the same building and whom I haven't seen. My doctor plans to retire in the very near future, so this would be inevitable if my doctor doesn't have a replacement. And this could very much be "Cicely, Alaska" as easily as it couldn't be "Mayberry, RFD". We have some quirky residents, and I've experienced an energy in the air that you might expect to watch on "Northern Exposure". And I am practically in Canada, which is almost in Alaska and I can see Russia from there. [pardon me while I get a mint for my fingers; they have a bad taste in their mouth after typing that].

Give me my bicycle and get out of my way or ride along with me. I may not go far, but in the shape I'm in, it doesn't take much to get an aerobic workout, and I have fun watching the moment go by...go by...go by. Eating healthy, being active, having a positive attitude, and making the changes to better the quality of my life...these things will do more to improve my health than the majority of medications prescribed. Add to the mix mmeditation (of all types) and taking natural, trusted, proven remedies for what ails ya whenever possible; the quality of life improves. And it's like discovering Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance all over again; the search for Quality, what exactly is it, and why do we want it so damn badly? Are we chasing something better than what we can even experience outside of this moment, perfect in its abundancy no matter where we are or what economic class we're in? What anchors are we dragging, what decisions are we avoiding, what things, real or imagined, are pulling us from our prospective paths? Compassion enables us to forgive, even if the benefactors are unaware. "The voice inside your head that always tells the truth" (thank you, Late Night with TV's Craig Ferguson for that term; I hope you're reading) tells us that it doesn't matter...things can only matter if we let them. Learning this has bought me time more than once. Indeed, the things I've learned have even reversed some of the effects of the past. Mikki and I were talking about burning karma during his recent visit; I assume I was owning and resolving my past so fully as to negate any further karma I would receive as a result of doing who-knows-what, who-knows-when...but sometimes, you are connected to people who know who and when...and why...just as easily as you see the same in them. That's a mad rush. And that, along with the thing or person or experience that gave me such a gift, are things to which I am eternally grateful, even if they don't last. Perhaps especially because they don't last.

There is no angel so sublime, He whispered. Who can be granted for one moment what is granted you forever. And I hung my head, astounded. ~Rumi

Be grateful for what you've got and take better care of it because you may need it some day. ~Tee

Undressing (get your heads out of the gutter)

No blog today, but instead, a poem by Rumi, a 13th-century Persian poet. He, along with Hafiz, never fails to inspire me; his words ring true and I often see them precisely when I need to. I have learned this lesson, but I have loved ones...friends and family alike, who have yet to know this truth. I hope that Rumi's words will light their path as brightly as they have mine. Namaste'.

Undressing

Learn the alchemy true human beings know; the moment you accept what troubles you've been given, the door will open.

Welcome difficulty as a familiar comrade. Joke with torment brought by the Friend.

Sorrows are the rags of old clothes and jackets that serve to cover, then are taken off. That undressing, and the naked body underneath, is the sweetness that comes after grief.

Why I am a vegetarian

I posted a rather icky picture on Facebook last night. My bicycle ride earlier took me to a cornfield next to the eagle tree (see my earlier posts about bald eagles) where I happened to find a little, dead mouse, not so much decomposed as half-missing by being eaten. By wasps. I'm sure other creatures have had their feast, as well. I was first taken aback by the rather horrid image of it all, especially because I am very drawn to rodents and have had many as pets. Unfortunately, my allergies to them over the years have grown to the point where keeping them is impossible. In any case, I saw a photo opportunity that young boys will find "Coooool!", curmudgeons will think, "Good riddance!" and the squeamish won't even look at a second time after glancing and squealing, "Ewwwwww!"

My sadness for this wee thing very quickly turned to blessings for its little life, sending it whatever energy its consciousness needed in case it was hanging around, confused. You know, his soul, his energy. Not his wasp-ravaged body. And I took pictures, because I saw the beauty in this mouse's body offering sustenance to who-knows how many other creatures. I saw it as a very compassionate, Buddhist thing to do, whatever that means. I'm not a Buddhist, but I dig the philosophy on a subatomic level. Seriously. It's all quantum, but that's another blog for another time. And one of these days, I'm going to owe my humble group of readers an an awful lot of posts; I keep mentioning that there are important tangents to my stories.

After posting the image, I received a private message from one of my friends. I've decided to post it here to explain why I'm a vegetarian.

Good day to you! I want to ask you a question about vegetarianism, in relation to your picture of the wasps feeding on the dead mouse. I don't criticize your choice not to eat meat. But how do you reconcile your view of the mouse as 'serving' while the wasps feed on its flesh? Is it the fact that the mouse was not raised expressly for slaughter, but instead ended up where it did through a natural chain of events? I'm curious.

I think it is a powerful picture, in that it shows a side of nature that more squeamish folks would like to pretend don't exist. It's not beautiful as in "oh what a pretty sunset", but it shows the essence of one of life's many cycles, and how life feeds on life. There's lots of people who don't get that aspect.

What's funny is that those squeamish folks hold what I call the "Disney" view of nature: All the animals live in harmony, talking squirrels, cuddly runnybabbits, etc. But then Disney goes and makes "The Lion King" in which Mufasa explains to Simba that the gazelles eat the grass, the lions eat the gazelles, and when they die, they eventually come back as grass and feed the gazelles. Kind of simplified, but there it is in a nutshell.

Like I said, I'm just curious what your take on it was. Thanks for getting my brain stimulated first thing in the morning. Well, that and the coffee I just poured down my throat. That, too.

This was my reply.

I have choices; I can sprout my beans and eat them. I can grow my own food. I can take my money and go to the store and buy food. If I really *had* to, I could beg for food (or the money to buy it) on the streets. Or, I could buy a hamburger, but because there are so many other foods that don't involve the cessation of life before its natural course played out, I choose not to eat meat. I don't believe that raising meat on a factory farm is a natural course, and even the act of raising the animals can cause more harm than good to the entire planet.

My ways of acquiring sustenance are numerous and diverse because my intellect is more evolved than that of the wasps or the mouse or Mufasa. I choose not to be a part of that particular circle of life, although I do hope that, if there's anything left of me to feed on after I'm cremated and scattered, that I can serve that purpose.

And yes, the mouse was not raised expressly as food...to be mistreated (or even treated well) and led blindly through a life that will end at the hands of someone who isn't even thinking about what its life may have meant or could have been. The animal that killed the mouse probably wasn't able to make that choice. I say probably because, if the mouse was killed as sport alone, there will be a different karma for the one doing the slaying than if the mouse had been killed because the predator was hungry...and/or had hungry baby mouths to fill at home. I can think above that and find ways to feed my body without harming a life, something my truth tells me is not right for me.

This does not mean I condemn those who choose to eat meat. It's not my place to do so, so if you want some of the smoked Boston Butt [the estranger] is serving today after smoking it all day yesterday at his place, be there for dinner. He eats late. Very late. You might actually have time to get there while there's some left. As with everything else, our current choices are very, very different. His don't fit me, but they're right for him. I can only be responsible for what I do, and that includes being sure I don't make the rules and laws regarding what is and isn't right for anyone else. You can visit my place for dessert or a proper cuppa afterward. ;)

Only a small percentage of my Facebook friends know how attached I am to meeses, so I'm sure you can probably imagine how difficult it was for me to take those pics. I can see exactly in them what I described in the caption, but what I didn't say is that I still feel sadness for the fear, panic, and pain the mouse may have experienced before it died, no matter whether it died by teeth or disease or being stomped on by something much bigger. But, I know that this is the way things go; to find beauty in such a scene yesterday *was* a powerfully moving experience. There is a Buddhist teaching that has students dwell on real human corpses in various degrees of decomposition. I really never "got" that until yesterday. I don't wholly understand it, but I got a glimpse into how valuable it is to see both sides of the coin, the dark and the light, what happens right after our bodies stop being a living thing. Being sad for the body is a human trait, though I also believe it also belongs to some animals who authentically mourn the death or absence of a loved one. I certainly don't want to be responsible for the death of a creature with such sentience, and I don't believe any of us can make the call as to which animals or even which species have that "knowing".

I hope this helps. It's refreshing when people will ask me these questions rather than tell me that there is absolutely NO freakin' way that there's any difference between the wasps eating that mouse and having Boston Butt for dinner. I feel the difference, and that is enough. Thank you for taking the time to ask, Jason. Namaste'.

Calling all readers! Calling all readers!

I would like to know the answer to a question to which, if you choose, you must be honest. Perhaps not brutally so, as I am a sensitive soul...

I'm sure there's a way to add an anonymous poll on here, but since I don't see one and am not presently inclined to go looking for code with which to tinker...(damn OCD; the spelling and grammar will be impeccable while the punctuation shows the creative license because I try to address my readers as if I were speaking; my punctuation reflects that). Now, how's that for OCD? < /stream of consciousness>

Back to my question. Would you be comfortable answering a question about me? I realize that I probably come across as a real Moonbeam or Earth Mother, as some would call me, a real hippie. Others might say I'm a whack job and think that, truly, there must be something wrong with me. The way I see myself, or at least my perception of myself, is a free spirit, liberated and semi-enlightened, happy because, even if I can't explain the answers, I know the answers.

Please tell me...what is your perception of me? Off the wall crazy? Stoned off my arse (a real possibility when the ischemia is screamia-ing), Connected to All in the most groovy way? Way past ripe for the funny farmer's market? Hey, I just made that up as I was typing it. Pretty clever, eh? Now that's multitasking. However comma, I digress. Be honest, but remember, I have a tender heart soul consciousness. How do you percieve me? I would ask how you see me, but that's another kettle of fish-shaped crackers (I'm a vegetarian) for another time. If you don't feel you know me well enough to have an opinion, read back through several posts...watch the videos. If that's not me, I don't know who else could possibly be having this much fun. Base your answer on that.

This post brought to you courtesy of the accidental students I encountered this evening and experienced a divine connection as a result. A Bodhisattva (in any belief [I do not mean religion]) must first learn to teach before she can teach to learn. Namaste'.

Choose to be happy

Just a little stream-of-consciousness video inspired by the gratitude for a cheap yard sale find and the illumination it gave me. Have a blissful day.

Burning Man or bust...

I don't know why it hasn't occurred to me until just now...just an hour or so ago...that I need to go to Burning Man. I mean, I really want to go. I dig it. I get the burning of the false self, the falling away of ego. I've been there, and strive to stay there. I do an admirable job, I think. Certainly enough to know that happiness is a choice, and that by making decisions based on what my compassion says is the best outcome for all, I continue to walk towards that happiness. I know that the only steps that amount to anything are the ones I take right now; I'd best be awake and aware and present enough in the moment to make them count. Like everything, they're only as permanent as a footprint on a windy Nevada playa in August/September.

They have community bicycles. And I can bring my own bean sprouts and live on them for pennies. How many thumbs up can we give that?

Today, I shall ride.

It's time to get this blog back to bicycles. Today, I shall ride. There are wild blackberries to pick, if my timing is accurate; I can pick some now and freeze them until my parents are able to make a visit; my papa loves wild blackberries. I have a geocache to check on. But mostly, my soul has been clamoring to take a ride, begging my body to rest only just enough to have the energy to pedal fast enough to blow my "Life is Good" cap right off of my head.

My health hasn't been what it should be lately, and finding the energy to ride isn't always easy. However comma...I find that, when I break past that fatigue the ego is telling me is insurmountable, and get on my bicycle, while I'm not overcoming the issues, I'm temporarily putting them on the shelf, allowing my spirit to be free to enjoy the moment of wind rushing by.

I subscribe to a lot of sites dedicated to cycling. While most of these focus on speed and sport, I ride for different reasons (I did not follow the Tour de France). For the awakened experience, first and foremost. I see so much more riding 10-15 miles per hour than I do in a speeding vehicle encasing me and obscuring my view. And let's face it, there are some spectacular views here. I have learned to live my daily life in the same manner as I see the world from my bicycle; unrushed, present, blissful, and full of possibilities. And my body appreciates the gentle workout. Without the repeated impact of compromised leg bones meeting the ground, my gams don't argue with me [much] and when they do, I don't listen. Not while I'm on my bicycle. I'm too busy adjusting my attitude and sending blessings to the cows and eagles and bugs I pass.

Today, I shall ride. Namaste'.