Yesterday, we went to our bi-weekly centering prayer gathering at our friend Gunilla’s home, and it was a small but quietly spirited meeting. Delycia and I sat in silence for an hour, with two other friends, and it seemed like all of us felt the flow of inspiration during those minutes.
We had to leave early, around 5:15, in order to drive over to Jamestown, where we would meet with another group of friends – the poetry gathering organized by two of our friends from the shoreline area of Rhode Island. The drive over to Jamestown was easy and pleasant, mostly because of the springtime evening light in the sky, which allowed us to appreciate the shoreline and inland scenery as we drove along in the slowly decreasing but still refreshing light. The poetry gathering, as it was the first time we met with that group, a hugely inspirational one for me, mostly because of two young poets who stood up and recited from memory some forceful and deeply-felt poems. I told Delycia I don’t recall in my memory ever hearing better poems spoken aloud by anyone – and the fact that they were recited from memory, with no book or cellphone to guide them, was especially remarkable to me. I have heard hundreds, maybe thousands, of poems spoken aloud over the years of my life, but never have I heard more powerful words delivered in a more poetic, personal, and fearless way.
April 27, 2019
Yesterday, we attended the annual Grandparents Day at The Rectory School, where we had a chance to meet with Ava’s other grandparents, John and Kath and Jan, and I think both Delycia and I enjoyed the occasion. I’m not sure young Ava enjoyed it, however, with her shyness and reserved personality. I saw some blushing cheeks on her several times throughout the day, but it warmed my heart to be with her, and with Delycia, and with John and Kath and Jan. It was a family finding companionship with each other in simple ways (smiles, hugs, handshakes, sincere conversation) – even though Ava may have wished it was over before it even began!
Yesterday, we drove up again to pick up Ava and Noah and prepare dinner for them, and, as usual, it was a pleasurable afternoon for us. It did require more driving than usual, since the kids were being picked up at times that were different from the usual routine, and so we had to be extra patient as we tried to figure out exactly where to pick them up and at what time. However, we worked it out in our easygoing way, and the afternoon and evening in beautiful Brooklyn turned out to be a success, as usual. I was the cook, and I tried my hand at preparing tacos for “taco Tuesday”. I think the kids enjoyed my menu, since they seemed to gather up the tacos and dispose of them in their tummies fairly quickly.
Last night, we attended our biweekly book discussion group, and an interesting thing happened. Usually, I am a fairly regular contributor during these discussions, but last night I found myself sitting in silence through most of the 90 minutes, just enjoying the comments made by my fellow readers. I realized, before too many minutes had passed, that these folks had read the short stories much more carefully than I had. Around the table, my fellow readers were excited, interested, talkative, full of smiles and curiosity, and obviously enjoying themselves as they discussed the three short stories we had read, while I found myself leaning forward, listening, and being thoroughly impressed with the insights my fellow book club members were demonstrating and sharing. I guess you could say it was a “wake up call” for me, since it helped me realize that I can’t just read quickly any of the stories or books we read in this group. My fellow club members are sharp, intense readers, and if I don’t wake up, I might be left behind!
Yesterday, we drove up to Annie’s home in Northampton, to help her and Gabe and Louie celebrate Easter Sunday. It was a wonderful trip for us, a friendly, easygoing visit, and overall, one of the most memorable family days I can recall. No, it wasn’t the whole family, but we five seem to sense that this was indeed a special family gathering. The drive up, for me, was peaceful and regenerating, since I simply sat in the passenger seat – reading, watching the beautiful scenery, and doing some quiet thinking. (On the way home, I did the driving and Delycia was able to do some relaxing – surely much needed – of her own.)
At Annie and Gabe’s home, we chatted, laughed, played some games, and I was able to help Louie learn to do the two magic tricks I had brought for him. These are very simple tricks, but they are perfectly mysterious tricks also, if they are done with care and practice. Louie and I practiced and talked for a long time, and I loved watching him practice with excitement in his eyes. We may have a young magician on our hands! For lunch, we took a very nice walk into midtown Northampton, with Louie holding my hand, and we ate at a quaint, almost full café that both Annie and Gabe suggested. We all had “bowls” of some sort, a dish that this café specializes in. We talked and laughed and enjoyed our food, and yes, Louie continued to do some practicing on his magic tricks.
We said goodbye around 3 o’clock, and headed home on a lovely afternoon, although we did run into a few raindrops here and there along the way. We were both happy to get home, and spent the next few hours just sort of dozing and wandering around the house, unwinding and enjoying thoughts about the day. Bedtime came early for both of us – around 8:30, if I remember correctly.
On Thursday, Matty came over for lunch, and we had a wonderful 3 ½ hours of serious, heartfelt conversation, followed by a scrumptious lunch prepared by Delycia. Honestly, I don’t ever recall having such a serious, fulfilling, lengthy conversation with anyone, and especially one of my own children. We covered miles and miles of topics in our discussion, but almost all of it was concerning fairly deep questions – like what is life all about? and who are we? and what is the meaning of reality? It was quite an adventure for me, and I think for all of us. There we were, sitting quietly in a comfortable living room, but flowing along with thoughts that seemed, to me, to spread out around us like brightening skies. It was an illuminating few hours for me, and I hope for all of us. And then – we sat down to a simply delicious lunch prepared by Delycia – tasty steak and perfectly marinated beans and tomatoes. Food for the gods!
Then – an equally rewarding adventure for me – yesterday we drove up to visit with our friends Peter and Evelyn, and enjoyed a perfect few hours of camaraderie. I sometimes have felt like a newcomer in this group of three very good long-time friends, but yesterday I was one of those friends. It felt like we were truly a group of four. I felt fortunate to be there with them.
We took a long, leisurely drive up to Boston yesterday, in order for Delycia to visit a good friend. I was a bit sleepy during the drive (Cia was driving), but I managed to do some lazy but serious thinking during the drive, almost like a moving meditation. I have noticed that I very much enjoy moving, either in a car when someone else is driving or on the train when we go to Boston, because for some reason I am able to enjoy either reading or thinking more when I’m moving then when I am just sitting still somewhere.
While Delycia was visiting with her friend, I enjoyed a quiet cup of coffee at Panera, just thinking, reading a little, and enjoying the family atmosphere in the café during this school holiday week. After coffee, I walked across the street and sat on a bench in springtime sunshine in the small park in the middle of the town of Newton. I was surprised to be able to sit outside, since the morning hours back in Mystic had been chilly, but in Newton, the weather had warmed up nicely so an old, serene guy could be cared for by the spring sunshine for at least a few minutes. I read a little from a beloved spiritual book of mine, highlighting and underlining special passages, pausing now and then to let the wisdom of the word sink in and to feel the flow of the warming April air. It was really a feeling like paradise for me, but to be honest, most of my minutes in these years in my 70s seem to be pretty close to paradise.
I sometimes find myself thinking about elements of life that seem to be infinite – elements that don’t have starting points or ending places, that have no boundaries or borders or edges or limits. These are the intangible parts of life, the parts that can’t be seen or touched but that stay with us forever and flow without end from everywhere to everywhere. The love we feel for family and friends, for instance, and for life itself, is as infinite as the universe. It has no limits, no boundaries where suddenly the love is blocked and stops. The sky, perhaps, has a far distant place where stars can’t shine, but love knows no such place, and will shine unfailingly everywhere and forever. Gentleness, too, is infinite. What barrier can bring gentleness to a stop, or what power can prevail over its soft, unceasing authority? And of course there’s the endless present moment, the moment that never starts and never ends and can never be destroyed. The present is infinite, always here and now, always able to endure beyond the borders of space and time in this infinitely vast life we’re all living.
Yesterday was a fairly quiet one for us – we who often seem busy with dozens of activities in these senior, supposedly easygoing years. One of the highlights for me on this happy-go-lucky day was the wondrously simply dinner that Delycia prepared for us. It was nothing ‘special’ – just a luscious meatloaf and carrots glazed with ginger and the juice of an orange. I loved it, in the same way that I always love the simplest of things, including modest days like yesterday.
One of the simple things we did was walk briskly on the treadmills at the YMCA. We had intended to walk on the beach in Watch Hill, but the weather turned rainy as we started out, so we headed back to the Y and got a good workout (me in my beach-walking clothes) on the treadmills (even though it meant watching the big screen TVs and their portrayal of the tragic fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris.)
Yesterday, we had a long, satisfying morning of ‘worship’ – not worship like in a church, and not the worship of a ‘god’ that’s up in the sky somewhere, but worship of the present moment, worship of the mysteries of right here and right now.
We began around 5:00 a.m., when Delycia and I came together in the sunroom, softly tapped our chiming bell, and began an hour of silent meditation, surrounded by the battery-powered candle lights flickering in the early darkness and the bright geranium and amaryllis blossoms.
At 6:00, we had a quiet breakfast together, followed by an almost silent walk in lovely Wilcox Park. There was an enchanting mist, almost fog, in the park, which made the walk seem somehow mysterious, perhaps even sacred, as though we were participating in some spiritual ceremony. I love that park, and yesterday morning I felt a sort of devotion to it, as though it was an actual outdoor place of worship.
Around 9:00, we went to the Quaker meeting house to participate in what is called ‘a meeting for worship with attention to business”, or just ‘business meeting’. This is a monthly meeting in which Quakers all over the world gather to discuss the financial aspects of their local meeting house. It’s a business meeting, but the Quakers also treat it as a meeting for worship. By doing business in a peaceful, friendly way, they feel like they are actually worshiping the infinite Spirit, or Light, of the universe. Our business meeting yesterday gave both of us another opportunity for silent meditation, as we spoke only briefly at the very end of the 80-minute meeting. As our friends around us spoke and discussed, we tried our best to hold them and us and everything ‘in the Light’, as a Quaker might say.
Then, at 10:30, the actual meeting for worship began – 60 minutes of absolute silence among perhaps 20 other worshipers. On two occasions, friends stood up and shared a brief thought that had come to them, and then sat down and continued in silence. It was, as it usually is for me, 60 minutes of peace and inspiration.
I wish I could type a very soft-looking WOW, because that’s what I feel when I think about yesterday morning’s almost 7 hours of silent and blessed tranquility.
Yesterday, we attended a spiritual discussion at our Quaker Meeting house on the topic of “waiting on the Lord”, an old and much-loved Quaker phrase. It was clear from the get-go that none of us thought of “the Lord” as some super-person sitting up in the clouds and passing judgment on we people down below (which is the idea many of us probably had in our youth). We all agreed, I think, that “the Lord” refers to a power existing in the universe that is greater than any one of us, and that ‘waiting’ on this power (or maybe thePower) simply means getting quiet, turning inward, being patient, and listening for what messages may come. For me, it was a refreshing and inspiring 90 minutes – just having a group of friends together and sharing insights about something that is far more important than our usual daily concerns. I actually ‘waited’ a lot during the discussion, just quietly listening to my friends and finding much wisdom in what they said.
Later, we drove to Peacedale, RI, where I took part in a poetry reading organized by a fellow participant in our Westerly poetry groups. It was quite an honor for me to sit on the stage with seven other poets – not famous, well-published poets, but people who simply love putting words down on paper (or, like me, on the computer screen). I was proud to be there, and proud to have Cia sitting in the front row, just a few feet from me.