Yesterday as I was hanging the laundry (a favourite meditation of mine) I felt this deep sense of being home, of true joy. I am generally a slightly grumbly type but this place just fills me with gratitude. Everything about it seems just right for me. There is privacy and quiet and a beautiful rural quality to the place. I can hang out in the garden. I can water the plants in my pyjamas with my hair standing in ways that would frighten small children. I can spend endless hours messing around with art materials. I have found placement for my art in several venues and the natives here seem uncannily friendly when you go into town.
I realized as I counted my blessings that these were all outward manifestations that could change at any time and that true equanimity comes from being okay with whatever comes up. This in fact deepens the gratitude and joy for me, knowing how special and fleeting such things can be. Appreciating and enjoying the small pleasures of life does not stand against knowing that our true essence lies somewhere deeper. The most "spiritual" beings I have met are filled with laughter and joy. They are also filled with faith and trust in what presents itself. My old Dharma teacher recently gave a talk on the Rolling Stones line: "You don't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might get what you need." Who knew the Rolling Stones were Dharma teachers?
So while the weather isn't overly cooperative in this part of the world we are enjoying the pleasures of summer. Yesterday we wandered a bit in the local Saturday market, picked a huge bowl of strawberries from the patch down by the pond. And following the lead of merci 33 I decided to sleep outside under the full moon. No matter I needed long underwear and a wool sweater. And I slept under the covered part of the deck so when the rain started at 3 in the morning I simply rolled over. The night air was filled with the sounds of frogs and the occasional hooting of owls. Yet at 3 in the morning silence had the upper hand. The moon moved in and out of the clouds and skirting along the tops of the fir trees.
What will you do to welcome this delicious, delicate, fleeting season?