I sit in the dentist chair, eyes closed my mouth completely covered in some surgical apparatus.  The sharp sting of novocaine still biting my cheek.  I breathe deep and slow, feeling my heart beat strong steady.  I find myself clenching my right hand and release it.  The dentist has left me here for a moment while he checks another patient.  I realize that at this moment I am fully present.  I am right here right now.  I allow my mind to wander a bit, the smell of a man’s cologne, the warmth of a man’s body, the caress of a man’s hands, the soft whisper of a kiss, fantasizing but for an instant, just to see what it is like to not be present, to be elsewhere dreaming, and wishing.  I return to the chair, the smell of burning bone and the tingle on my lips and the warm heavy weight of the lead apron on my legs.  Yes dear I am right here.  Waiting for you, and here I remain each second that passes fully present.  Later there is a solid pressure in my head, this cavity was a long time coming, missed somehow for years.  My tooth was alive, but the size of the cavity required more intense work.  I still feel numb sometimes, and the pressure is heavy on me, but the moments that pass are light and full of love.  When I forget and find my self wound, and rotting, I just have to breath deep and return to this place.  Here, now.

I am dreamy today in a way that is a quarter joy, a quarter  melancholy, one quarter sleepiness one quarter feeling wide awake.  My emotions are dark and clouded, although the day is clear and warm and bright. It is slick and I nearly take a dive down the steps as my foot slides out from under me.  Geese are scattered all over the glassy water, they honk in the startlingly brilliant sunlight.  The rains over the last few days have left the mucky swampy area in crystal pools reflecting the light that blazes down through the bare trees.  I feel like this swamp, murky, muddy and yet crystal clear and reflecting all that is around me, still and yet fetid, fecund, alive and yet on the edge of dormancy.  I am over dressed and soon have to remove my light hooded jacket, and am still warm.  There are many people here today, to soak up the last rays of sun and warmth before the cold sets in.  It is unusual for me to be here so early, but a cancellation of yoga and the hope of hitting the buffet at India House has me out now, my laundry on the line at home, the dishwasher started and the cat boxes cleaned, I need to vacuum but vacuuming is for snow days.  At least this is what I tell myself. 

The path is clearly delineated in the warmer months but the leaves and brush are cleared and I can see far into the forest the leaves that are scattered everywhere obscuring my path.   Because of this I can see a giant paper wasp nest hanging in the tree tops, I had walked here a couple dozen times but never noticed it less than fifteen feet from the path. I think I need to actually remember to bring my epipen with me.  

An older woman who speaks English poorly askes where is the parking and I point her the way, she is lost and follows me out, waiting for me as the dog stops or I do.  In the lot she thanks me and waves. 

As I leave I narrowly miss being hit in a head on collision, I swerve tightly onto the grass as I swear loudly and notice it is a coworker.  Great. Stupid person should have kept to her side of the road.

I am sleepy, I want to dream.  I knit on the front steps, cold coffee, pink cheeks.  Dozing like a cat in the sun.

I went to Clark Reservation today but it was closed.  Since I had already promised the dog a walk, I went instead to Green Lakes.  I don’t ever – really ever talk on the phone when I am walking, but today I called a friend to talk.  At one point while I was talking and walking I stopped and noticed how quiet it all was there, how still the waters, how at peace the world was.  I continued to talk though because the converstion was deep and meaningful, and my friend had much to say that helped me with this idea that I am struggling with.  Trust.  Or in my case the inability to trust. 

The first person I called was my cousin and he was working.  He sounded tired and I felt like he only answered the phone because it was me…he is good to me always.  I trust him.  There is no doubt.   His steady enduring love for me, and shared history and shared upbringing, has a depth of meaning that is precious to us both.  Familial love, the understanding of our genetics and of our nutured lives intermingling with our own struggles and joys.  I love his hugs, the almost fatherly kiss to the forehead and his saucey self. 

The next person I call answers so warmly, I can hear the smile of love and happiness in his voice.  That is a thing I can trust, this voice, this love.  He tells me that I have to take care of my self, nuture myself and love myself.  He tells me that I have to understand that I am not alone.  He tells me that betrayal, has had a profound impact on my life and to feel a lack of trust is to be expected.  I cannot put words to what we discussed, and mostly I just listened.  A jogger went by me and berated me for having the cell phone to my ear, even though I was saying mostly quiet Yes that is right, and I cannot talk about that (all teary) and Um Hm’s.  I am usaully like the jogger, so judgemental.  But I needed this piece for my peace of mind tonight.  About halfway around the second lake I realized I had misjudged the time and I ended my conversation.  I walked back quickly in the deepening darkness.  Before hanging up he admonished me to be careful, to call him when I returned to the car.  I am not usually one to walk in such a remote place so late in the evening. 

I text him, wow it got dark fast, he says, are you okay sweetie, yes i write TU, he comments, ah go on…I put in my own words go on honey, your love is special to me, I care about you and don’t want anything else to happen to you.  His words, and how he was one of the only ones who got my grief right.  Who instead of shoving me and pulling me and pushing me to feel right as rain, let his tears fall along with mine adding to the deluge.  Although others that I love were in the background rightly worried, and still others said and still say horrible things that rend me and scratch me, it is these two people whom I turn to.  I remember how I needed that strong masculine energy early on.  How I turned to the memory of my father and the man that he was.  And I remember how this friend cried and cried for over an hour with me as I sat in front of my daughter’s friend’s house.  When she finally got in the car, my daughter asked how long I had been there and noting my tears asked if I was okay.  I love him so much I said, I love my friends so much.   My heart breaks with joy from this love of his.  And when he is hurting, I cry too.  And I cry now for all the heartache he has shared with me.  Because we are really good friends, we tell each other things that we probably shouldn’t but do anyway.  And I love him for his warm strong arms, his warm masculine scent and his saucey mouth. 

I know I am not alone.  That is something I do trust.

I find so much solace, serenity and peace at the Zen Center.  Really the more time I spend there the deeper I feel a profound and abiding peace within my heart.  I have been volunteering for the last five weeks and tonight my teacher.   Was talking about this teaching that is very moving to me.  I actually had tears in my eyes.

1. I am sorry.

2. Please forgive me.

3. Thank you.

4. I love you.

That is everything I have to say.  That is what is in my heart.  Profound.

On my way to the Zen Center I read a bumper sticker.  It said this.  You don’t have to believe everything you think.  The guy whose car it was on is a member of the Zen Center.  I told him I loved that saying and he said cryptically that it is perplexing to some people.  I say it is deeply meaningful.

And on a further note I am blessed, thankful, and lucky.  A new friend graciously and lovingly mulched and cleaned the leaves off of my lawn.  Normally a three-day project that is absolutely arm rending and back-breaking.  This friend also did some maintenance on my power tools too.  And cleaned my gutters.  A heart can be full of joy from the smallest gifts of the heart.

On Wednesday night it just poured, and on Thursday at least where I work, it was cloudy but not raining all day.  The weather report called for clearing skies.  I rushed to Clark after work.  I have to say it was really really wet and quite slippery.  The leaves on top of the limestone was treacherous.  I know now that the boots I bought at the outlet mall are really really good boots, because for the most part I managed well.  The place was dead though only a couple cars in the lot at the beginning and end of the hike.  The geese were out in abundance, practicing for their flight, flying low and high in small groups.  Most of the leaves have fallen now too and the views were better than usual despite the dismal grey light.  The tiny trickle of a stream at the end of my walk was full and I could see down into what is usually a dry lake and there was water there.  I am struck again by how healthy this little ecosystem seems to be, at least in comparison to the road scarred wilderness of the city.

My morning constitutional.  The light is a dull ache but my heart is like the crisp red leaves of a Japanese maple pulsing in the gray dawn.  I am wearing my favorite socks a wildly patterned pair, with bright colors, and my brown birk sandals.  My pants are midnight blue and my shirt October blue sky and my hooded sweatshirt the grey of this dawn.  The wind is blowing and the leaves are doing a salsa over my head and swirling around me, putting out a hand and asking me to dance, I skip as the wind reaches out a playful hand and tosses my hair.  Blue green eyes sparkling, crisp morning air crosses with my warm breath as I laugh softly.   Milkweed seeds with silken strands call to my fingers and I reach out a gentle hand to caress them, they are picked up by the wind and dance away in a conga line.  This is my favorite kind of day. 

My afternoon bliss I am driving driving driving when suddenly at the crossroads I see a gingko of the most golden light.  A queen’s treasure to be sure.  I get out of my car and I walk.  The sugar maples are brilliant yellow, and they are like sunlight in the sky.  It had been so sunny and blue but now the wind is picking up again and the clouds are a down comforter on the sky.  Birds do their manuevers in the wind, like a school of fish, somehow knowing what move will come next, following one another in a solid speckled cloud of wings and feathers and beaks.  A few crows glide over and a small flock of geese.  This is my favorite kind of day.

On Thursday I had to leave the Zen Center early.  I could not sit another second, in fact I actually made a gross motor move and changed my position in the middle of the sit which is a big no-no.  I ached everywhere and my old war wound, the pain that has existed as a dull ache in my hip for several years was literally causing spasms in my back and leg as I sat.  I thought it was the weather.  I didn’t feel bad Friday just achey.  Saturday I had a tummy ache, since I stopped eating dairy my IBS symptoms disappeared, and there is no longer anyone to put cream in my coffee even though I drink it black, so the symptoms of IBS are gone completely.  I don’t believe it though so when my tummy was upset I thought it was just IBS.  Then on second thought the feta cheese I ate for lunch on Friday.  Sunday morning more tummy upset, nothing unusual, but then I drove my daughter to her boyfriend’s house and on the way home started shivering uncontrollably.  I was already in my yoga clothes and ready to hike after but instead spent the afternoon shivering on the couch under a load of blankets. The new kitty came over and laid on my chest and purred, at one point she stopped and I woke and started shivering again and she began purring again.  The dog, knowing it was a beautiful day just paced and whined, he wanted a walk.  I took my temperature after I stopped shivering and it was 101.4 degrees F.  I literally slept off and on all afternoon and evening and then until about 10 this morning.  It is another gorgeous day, and all the years of me telling my daughter that when she is sick she should go outdoors and get sun and fresh air has worn off on her.  Mom, she said, after we went to the store to get myself some juice and she went to class, sit on the front steps with your knitting and enjoy some of the nice weather, you know it will help you feel better. 

I finished my book, The Wishing Year by Noelle Oxenhandler.  A lovely book that I read cover to cover, which I don’t do much these days.  Her writing is easy and flowing and full of a depth of spirituality, easy and comfortable.  Then noting the huge pile of maple and black walnut leaves in the driveway decided to sweep.  You can tell I am sick because it took me longer than normal and I was sweating like crazy.  The bees were out, and I noticed that there is a new green backed little wasp competing with the honey bees to collect pollen from my daisy shaped chrysanthemums.  We think we cannot live without our honey bees, but then a new animal comes in to take its place, pollinating the same flowers.  I feel hopeful. 

Green Backed Wasp or Bee on a chrysanthemum

I go sit on the steps again and then decide it is time to head in the dog and I are both in need of a drink.  I listen to music and think about dreams and wishes.  They are right here in front of me, shining and sparkling out of the insides of my eyelids.  I can see what I want.  I know what I want.  And somehow today, even though I feel lousy, I know it will come.  Thanks to the little green backed wasps in my garden.

Dried Queen Anne's Lace with a Milkweed seed

I am hiking for the who knows how manyeth time at Clark Reservation.  I change my route today because my knees are hurting for some reason, and I don’t want to stress them too much on the stairs.  The new route is shorter too which worked for me today because I had to take my daughter someplace.   I stop at the spot where I did the other day, there must be a very large order of squirrels here.  I hear lots of crashing and cracking.  I round the corner with my mind on wishes and a man is coming down the path towards me.  He asks me if there were any deer because he too heard the crashing.  I notice my dog is not barking at him, is completely at ease sitting and looking about.  Somehow this stranger and I start talking most randomly about French films.  He recommends several older ones I had never heard of.  We talk about literature too.  Later I tell my daughter this odd story and she thinks it was a dream.  But then I open my bag and take out the business card he gave me, it was real.

I took out my wool dress coat two days ago, but this morning I was blissfully watching the news when they mentioned snow, I looked out and yelled oh my god it snowed.  I called to my daughter who said some rather blue words when I told her to look outside. 

Snow on Burning Bush

After work though it was sunny and relatively warm so I went again to Clark to hike with the dog.  I have figured out that it is only about a two mile hike but it is definately more challenging than a longer flat hike.   At one point on a T in the trail, I stopped and listened, the dog was acting a little stressed turning to see what every sound was, then after a couple minutes he sat and looked at me with a big old grin on his face.  Then we listened a little longer, the forest just singing with it’s living self.  The calm that came over him was palpable and joyous.  After a few minutes of standing there peacefully breathing we forged on, but not without him hesitating and looking back one last time at the forest.

Lake at Clark Reservation