It was a treat to slow down and enjoy a quiet Thanksgiving Day with family. Trudy and I went over to Lakeview Oregon to unwind and visit Dad. I took a walk across the valley and looked over the ranch. A couple coyotes were out looking for gophers and mice, the cattle were laying in the morning sun. A quiet and peaceful morning without any noise of traffic, people, dogs, or doors. Nothing but the sound of a breeze in the grass and trees. It was a reminder that no matter how hectic it gets, there is always a peaceful place to retreat and recharge. Ahhhh, all better now!
Lately, when the girls begin their hour of TV watching, I’ve been able to sneak upstairs and sit in meditation. Today, two obstacles made me smile.
First, the cat was in the bedroom. Worried that he’d start to climb on me once I settled in, I tried to snag him and shut him out. He was smarter than that, though. Every time I thought I’d gotten him, he darted away into the closet or under the bed. What a metaphor for the process that happens in meditation: you can’t make things happen. I gave up trying, shut the door, and sat down. He was quiet.
It’s National Walk to School Day, which we celebrated in the same way we do every other weekday: walking to school. It’s one of the many upsides of living in a mixed-use community (downsides include tiny yards). Yesterday, for example, I took the girls to school, went to work, taught two classes, went to the grocery (well, actually, I didn’t, but I could have), picked the girls up, dropped them off at a play date, and retrieved them from the play date. And I did it all on foot.
Wow it’s been almost a month since my last post. My active lifestyle has briefly been challenged with my beloved wife Trudy’s healing knee. Her life has slowed somewhat dramatically, from living at the speed of light, to currently slogging along in geologic time! Needless to say she is a bit frustrated. The walker is not too helpful for her personal image. I have kept busy with trying to keep up with both of our normal daily tasks, finding myself at a loss to even put a small dent in her normal daily undertakings. I have put in hour upon hour of daily training over the years, but I can’t seem to perform half of what she can normally accomplish in a day.
We are in California, spending a few days in Napa before heading up to Lake Tahoe for Wes’s sister’s wedding. Tuesday was a very busy day, with the flight out; navigating SFO; a delicious late lunch at the Sausalito Taco Shop; a precipitous drive up to and down from Muir Woods; a hike through the park there, which was filled with Europeans, apparently taking advantage of the dollar’s weakness; and finally the drive to Napa, during which the rental car GPS and I disagreed vehemently several times yet finally learned to get along, prompting a family discussion about the importance of admitting when you are wrong. The last few minutes of the drive were enhanced by listening to my brother, John Hamilton, host the 6:00 news live on KPFA.
Two of now-five-year-old Vivi’s great spoonerisms from the past two days.
There’s got to be some training nugget in no. 2. When is it appropriate to faint your pace? To ask someone else to faint it for you?
As I wait outside the operating room I am reminded, that of all the activities and sports I thoroughly enjoy, none brings the inner peace and fulfillment of sharing each day with my wife. Whether I am paddling a river, riding my bike, skiing that perfect line, she is always there. Sometimes she is there in person, other times I think of how much she would enjoy what I am seeing when we are not able to see it together.
This morning I woke up to the sound of several loudly whispered expletives and Ryan using a floor pump on his tires, then the gushing noise of air traveling too quickly more expletives and repeat. “You’ve got to be f*(&&**(ing kidding me!” This happened 4 times.
