A Day of Blessing and Refreshment

Shantivanam was blessed with visits yesterday from men and women of faith and cheer. Fathers Bosco and Sixmund of Tanzania offered us blessings in Swahili. Fr. Bosco is returning Monday to his nation, after a one month trip seeking resources and support for his people. (Pictured here, Fr. Bosco, Pat, Fr. Six and Rachel.) Little six week old Zoe also made an appearance, but left with her grandmother Carol before we started taking pictures. It was wonderful to be in the presence of such fresh, new life.

Can you believe the average annual income of a Tanzanian is $100? We gave some funds to Fr. Bosco and made promises about continuing to do more. When I asked what was needed most, Fr. Bosco said, "Help our hospitals."
What kind of help is needed?
"First, electricity. Second, water." Incredibly basic, when we think American hospitals are always insisting on purchasing the latest, greatest MRI or another piece of medical technology.

Our day was full of sharing and support, as we focused on the true meaning of the teaching, "Love one another, as you love yourself." We all agreed that, for women of our nature, loving ourselves is the greater challenge. We find it much easier to be of service, but saw that when we do practice self care, everyone in our lives benefits.

Our theme, as we prayed, meditated and talked was in line with wisdom from the book of Isaiah, Chapter 30, verse 7: "Their strength is to sit still." We did our best, and felt refreshed!

Before Dawn, Our Beautiful Dog Leaves Her Body..for Morning Glory

What a strong, brave and determined dog our dear Girl has been since that day in June, 1995, when she barked into our lives. We were at Geneva Giles' farm in West Glover, Vermont, to buy a couch. "Come to the barn and see our litter of puppies," Geneva said. This little girl pup came right up to us and began barking incessantly! We understood and brought her home.

Now, 13 years later, she spent the last two months gradually leaving the world, her body, and this family. For the past three days and nights, she refused food and water, pulling herself into the woods, and resting in a cool, leafy bower. Last night, Thurmond and I brought our sleeping bags, candles and incense to the little grove, and told Girl that we were spending the night at her side. Her breath was labored, then fast, then shallow, then fast again. Several times, she cried out in a moan, sounding both human and doglike. Such a different sound than Girl's typical evening sound...when she would Bark at the Dark deep into the starry night.

We had discussed the possibility of having Girl put to sleep, but both felt that she wouldn't have wanted to take a shortcut in her life. She deserved her full life span, and we agreed to support such an exit. As the weeks wore on, it became clear to us that "putting a dog out of her suffering," has a lot more to do with the pain the family endures, watching the slow ending.

The Yogis of India teach that a lifetime is made up a finite amount of breaths. Once all our breaths are used, we leave.

Just before dawn this day, Girl used up all her breaths.

Friday afternoon, our loving Rocky came over to tell Girl goodbye, help us prepare and to "cheer us up." He dug a deep grave, next to where we buried our male collie mix, Boy, in 2002. At dawn today, we lined her final resting place with balsam and cedar, some early gold autumn maple leaves and plenty of wildflowers. Blue Vervain, Black Eyed Susans, Orange Day Lilies, Bee Balm...plus gorgeous pearl white Foxglove, flowering oregano and some wild green apples.

Thurmond added a small, ornamental violin, to symbolize all the time our Girl spent in his violin shop, companion to many, many students...and often the lucky recipient of some part of their lunch. Dave always believed Girl could tell time, as she would sidle up to his work bench at exactly noon each school day, and stare without blinking. "I always tried to pack a little something for Girl," he told us.

Among Girl's nicknames: Little Girl (no longer appropriate after her first birthday) Gigi (for G.G., Good Girl) Foxy Red or Foxy Loxy. After Thurmond placed her in the grave, we put the Foxglove on her head like a crown, a most perfect offering for Foxy. The varied bouquet of golds and oranges reminded us of her beautiful coat. You can see she was a strawberry blonde, in th photo taken in mid June. Her front legs were widely splayed, compensating for loss of a rear leg 8 years ago. She was injured in an accident that remains a mystery...we believe someone drove up our driveway, hit her, and sped away.

Undaunted, after the leg was removed by the veterinarian, Girl jumped off the operating table! With three legs, she tried hard to resume her winter sports routine, accompanying us on cross country ski trips. Prior to the amputation, she had boundless energy. One cold day, we thought she had stayed at home, only to return from our ski to find a three legged trail following ours. Thurmond had to ski back for miles in the dark, to rescue our stubborn, strong Girl, stuck in a big drift. He carried her home that night.

Of all her gifts, Girl will probably be best and most remembered for her unfailing, unflagging cheerfulness. Our official greeter here at Shantivanam, she loved everyone. She never was naughty or mean spirited to a living soul. Girl was the essence of love incarnate. My father called her "Lady," though she was also tomboy, country Girl. She kept herself well groomed (licking her paws till the shone white every night) albeit for a burdock or balsam twig in her plume of a tail. Girl even was up for wrestling with our son Elliot, who discovered when he was a teen that she especially delighted in his patented "body slam!"

Many years ago, a visiting neighbor, upon meeting Girl for the first time, said, "What's your name little girl? I think I will call you 'Morning Glory.'" Today, as the sun was rising, we said good bye to our Girl . She went to her Morning Glory. She taught us so much, but mostly, about unconditional love. Thank you, Dear Girl!

August Outdoor Days

At last! Sunny days have arrived in Vermont, and we are bathing in the golden light.

Saturday, we drove with dear friends to Burlington for Shakespeare in the Park, an outdoor production of "The Taming of the Shrew." The cast (dressed in contemporary costumes) was incredibly able and talented...and the green grass most welcoming of our blankets.

We had a lovely, leisurely day...walking along the Lake Champlain boardwalk, stopping for an Italian dinner and ice cream, then being led by the giant full moon on the drive home.

Sunday morning, we jumped out of bed and said, "Let's go sailing!" We've had so few days on the boat this wet season. The winds were gusty, so Thurmond had a blast. Haskell, our little Maltese dog, and I, snuggled below and read. We had a few canoe rides to and from the boat (moored out in Lake Memphremagog) and another ice cream cone. The pink sunset convinced us to spend the night on the boat.

Can you see the sailboat with the black mast, the Rising Sun, behind paddling Thurmond?

Monday morning, we recalled the years we used to hit the ground running and head for challenging jobs. Today, we enjoyed a canoe ride to shore and a sunny drive home. Thurmond picked raspberries for breakfast, while I made the coffee and buckwheat pancakes.
I am reading Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, and her thinking tucked in nicely to our weekend of appreciating local blessings. Just the lakes alone in northern Vermont make our Green Mountain summer a paradise.

The book tells the story of her family's experiment of eating only locally produced food for one year, and the many benefits of this "close to home" approach to living. Kingsolver sympathizes with exhausted working mothers, who can no longer bake their own bread or grow tomatoes for their own spaghetti sauce:
"When we traded homemaking for careers, we were implicitly promised economic independence and worldly influence. But a devil of a bargain it has turned out to be in terms of daily life. We gave up the aroma of warm bread rising, the measured pace of nurturing routines, the creative task of molding our families' tastes and zest for life; we received in exchange the minivan and the Lunchable. (Or worse, convenince-mart hot dogs and latchkey kids.) I consider it the great hoodwink of my generation."

May we all find ways to dance around our schedules and avoid the Great Hoodwink...may all enjoy the preciousness of this moment.

The Joy of Asking for Help

Walking this morning to visit a friend, I noticed one scene after another of people exercising fierce independence. How we love to do things ourselves! How strongly we dislike asking for help.

~Pat and WJ overlooking Shadow Lake, Saturday~

After weeks of rain, our dry Saturday motivated my neighbors to paint a mailbox, hang wet towels and repair a rotting porch.

On my walk, I looked forward to greeting a new resident of a nearby cabin. As I approached her home, I watched her repeatedly attempt to open a plastic garbage bag…and (did I imagine this part?) sensing my closeness, I saw her turn inside and close her door.

I, too, have avoided others in a time of need. Was it pride? Stubbornness? Fear of looking incompetent or weak? Why are we sometimes like willful preschoolers, acting out “I can do it myself; don’t help me?”

Another friend told me Thursday about her 5 year old refusing any assistance, when attempting to lift her little brother onto a horse! A strong young lady, she has an incredible sense of herself and her capacity. Perhaps a future president?

But as much as I admire the self directed and self sufficient, I have even greater respect for those who are able to reveal their neediness, and humble themselves to ask someone for help. I spent some time this week with a friend who received a diagnosis that has scared her, badly. She needs a ride to another hospital, for more tests, but is not comfortable asking anyone to drive her.

“Why?” I asked.

“Everyone is so busy, I don’t want to ask, it is so hard,” she cried.

When I deny myself the support of others, it is usually because I am not at ease with my vulnerability. More than once, I have tried to carry my massage table up stairs when the task really requires two people. I think I should be more able, more complete, more perfect. How silly! Just why do I think all these people are on the planet? To only help themselves?

Last week, the wonderfully inspirational website, www.dailyom.com, posted a beautiful meditation on being willing to reveal our full self to others. It said, in part, “Those of us who were lucky enough to have a parent who was able to keep it real may find it easier to be that way ourselves. The rest of us may have to work a little harder to let go of our pretenses and share the beauty and humor of our real selves. Our reward for taking such a risk is that as we do, we will attract and inspire others, giving them the permission to be real too.”

Later today, we had the great opportunity to share the afternoon with a fascinating man. Nearly 90 years old, WJ told us stories that were truly jaw dropping. He was on the crew of an American Air Force plane in the 1940s that provided Mahatma Gandhi with his FIRST AIRPLANE RIDE! WJ also invented the sensing device that governs internal cooling in big computer units. He climbed the third highest mountain in the world, named Kanchenjunga, when he was 22.

Living in Bangalore during WW II, WJ shot cobras he found in his tent, saw widows throw themselves on funeral pyres, and designed an airplane carburetor that allowed planes to fly at 60,000 feet over the Himalayas and not ice up. I told my husband, Thurmond, that talking with WJ is the closest we will ever get to experiencing what it must have felt like to talk with Thomas Edison.

But if WJ's daughter Pat had not asked if we wouldn’t mind hosting her father while she worked hard to clean up and close up their summer camp, we wouldn’t had heard his tales.

Thank you, Pat! Thank you, WJ! Thank you for reminding us of the great good things that happen when neighbors reach out to neighbors.

Cooking at the River of Life

Summer camp is a precious memory. But I wanted a present experience of camp, so this week I am volunteering in Irasburg, Vermont, at the River of Life overnight camp. I was assigned to the kitchen (though I suggested teaching yoga or creative writing would be fun!) where we are making Big Amounts of Food!

Kitchen manager Carol has the morning all mapped out for us (see her in photo above, in red apron). Brownington 12 year old Mercy, her mother Holly and I are the crew. Yesterday, the menu included sweet cinnamon rolls for breakfast (known as "monkey bread") chocolate chip cookies and brownies. Sugar Power!

(Nurse Lois also helped serve. And notice we all are wearing gloves.)

The campers are oblivious to the rain, and that is a good reminder for us all. Vermont seems to be the recipient of a rainy summer, so we are all learning that our moods need not be driven by weather. If we can master this lesson, just think how free of mood swings we will be?!