“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The rhythm of this social-isolation is having it’s way with me. Today is Friday. Meditation with a handful of others via ZOOM, at 6:30 am, then ZOOM yoga with Kathy at 7:45. My fingers on the keyboard now, writing with the Southern Circle of Poets, who will meet at 11:15 to share—also on ZOOM!
I find myself wondering what the metaphor of a platform called ZOOM has to say about this time of virtual living when I feel like both Frodo and Gandalf….
This morning’s musing:
Life is moving from the inside out
Paying attention to an inner sense
Dancing to music unheard that blows through the breeze and falls on some deaf ears
Birds fly overhead, beads adorn our bodies, beach glass lands at our feet
I dreamed of breathing under water
Gold chains; rubies, emeralds, sapphire
Adorned with abundance and beauty
Moments rise up and move out into the world
Each day Anne Frank’s spirit reminds me she
Endured safe-sheltering for over 700 days
Khanti—one of the paramitas—the mixture of endurance and perseverance
To keep going (out of love) even though things are uncomfortable or difficult
“The flower is always the bud’s undoing”
Each new day evidence that the previous is no more
No more do we cling, it is futile to hold onto the illusion
It is now our true nature to surrender
Surrender to the way things are without abandoning the dreams planted in the heart
Holding him in my arms for the very first time, whispering a made-up name
“I am your Gammie”
I went kicking and screaming into grandparenthood
At 39, too young to be a grandmother
Too busy to take on another
Role
But the role fell away as I held you
Watching your beautiful face
Feeling your breath
Smelling you
30 years
Now watching you from a distance
Recalling your breath
Imagining the fragrance of your being
I am your Gammie; a role I find much peace in
The bud is being undone yet again all of our roles dissipate like dew in the morning sun
The Bud’s Undoing Debra Basham 05-15-2020 (WC 260)