How Does Your Garden Grow?

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you, but not from you...

Kahill Gibran

Have I conveyed to you how proud I am of my daughter?  Baby Girl was born an old soul, a child of God who has been around for eons. She's much more enlightened than I am.

Take for example this evening. I checked in with her as usual on my cell while driving home from work. (Before you jump to conclusions, let me just say that my cell conversations while driving are always "hands free.") I don't know what we did before the days of "family plan" calling contracts. Rarely a day goes by when the daughter figure and I don't reach out and touch each other via cell waves. Our daily conferences began years ago when she moved to the big city--sort of a soothing pacifier for mother/daughter separation anxiety. As the years fly by, the calls continue, although, I suspect, I am more dependent upon them than she. But I digress...

Anyway, Baby Girl proceeded to tell me about her week at work. She had scored a major victory in the office dynamics department with a boss who is beginning to value her opinions and suggestions. Did she do this by subterfuge and back-stabbing office politics? No. She quietly waited for her boss to seek her out and request her input. Then she gave her pragmatic observations on building a practice in a down economy and allowed her boss to digest and evaluate her ideas.

I signed off, thinking how lucky I am to know such a Zen master-in-the-making. I marvel at her wisdom and insight at such a young age. It occurs to me that she is just like her grandmother. My mother served for decades as a church secretary--the key word here is "served." Do you know what it's like to have 300 people who all think they're your boss? She became a master of diplomacy, a model of humility. Did those whom she served honor and value her? Absolutely.

The wonder of it all is that Baby Girl's grandmother died when BG was only twelve. In those twelve years, they were largely separated by 1400 miles. I have to deduce that the traits my daughter inherited from her grandmother are hard-wired into her genes. I'd like to take full credit for the amazing young woman my daughter has become, but...if the debate arises over whether Nature or Nurture most influenced her growth, Nature surely wins. Grandmother and granddaughter share the same intuitive grace and freedom from ego. I can claim little of the honor for Baby Girl's amazing growth. I merely stand in awe at what Nature so exquisitely designed.

And I ask you--how does your garden grow?

And Justice For All

It is in justice that the ordering of society is centered. 

Aristotle

It's hard to argue with someone who has the articulate staying power of Aristotle.  I get that. But when I am compelled to be part of the justice system, I'll be the first to confess that I drag my heals.  I'd much prefer to leave karma to take care of said justice.

For the past few years, as a student of Unity, I've worked very hard to control the ego-based urge to judge--other people, events, relationships. It's not easy, but I'm learning. This past week the Universe delivered a practical exam on the subject. 

First an incident ocurred where I was required to file a report with Animal Control over an attack by a neighbor's dog. I was torn about it. The dog certainly couldn't be blamed because the owners hadn't trained her well or assured that the gate was locked. But it was the second time the same dog had charged us as we walked down the street.  If I didn't take the initiative the dog might hurt a child.  No sooner had I made that call when the dog attacked a meter reader. Still...it was a curiously sick feeling that accompanied my interview with the AC officer.

Then, on Tuesday I was summoned for jury duty in district court. I'd never before been called to be a juror. I would be quite content to go the rest of my life without repeating the experience. It was...shall we say...a revealing exposure to some of the seedier elements of humanity and the flawed judicial process. Long story short, we, the jury were lead to convict a mother whose son threw her under the bus, even though he was as complicit in the crime as she. And his girlfriend also testified against her (although she was a worthless, whacked-out witness.) There were no innocents here. Deliberation took less than a half hour.

 Sounds pretty judgemental, doesn't it? That's what bothers me. It took one week of immersion in "judgedom" to awaken my inner Judge Judy. Errrrgghhhh. I felt...well...icky. Out of curiosity I polled the rest of the jury. "How did everyone sleep last night," I asked.

"I slept fine," stated several.

"I didn't sleep at all," related a few.

And I found myself appraising--judging each jury member by how they coped with their assignment, and how many of them felt sick like me. I had worked for two years at suppressing what some would say is a natural instinct--that ego based need to weigh, evaluate, appraise, and assess according to my own perceptions. In one short week, all my positive control had come unravelled like an old sweater. It will take weeks of prayer and meditation to repair it. Cue heavy sighing here.

Perhaps I'm being too hard on myself with these two incidents. Life is, after all, an on-the-job training course. I'm sure this won't be the last time I'm tested. Maybe that's why the Universe placed me on this path this past week--advanced life lesson learned. Check.

From My Patio: A Fire-Red Dawn

We've already established that I'm not a morning person.  So anytime I'm obligated by appointment or duty to arise before I'm ready, it's accompanied by great growling and grumbling. So it was that I arose at 6:15 this morning, in order to breakfast, shower and awaken enough for an 8:00 am doctor's visit. I begrudgingly kicked the covers off, rolled out of bed, and stumbled to the kitchen for coffee, followed by an even sleepier puppy. But as I opened the sliders to the patio, it "dawned" on me that this was not to be the average morning.
No chirping of birds and crickets. The usual critters' chorus had been replaced by a slow, soothing drip of raindrops. What a treat! Rain is such an infrequent gift in the desert, it is an occasion to be savored. I curled up under the patio eves, coffee cup in hand, content to postpone my morning rush.

It had been a stressful week, marked by a dog attack on my sweet puppy, the third such vicious encounter in eight months. It seemed that humanity's malcontent and unease had spilled over into the animal kingdom. The world looked very much out of control.

But as I sat in the stillness of hushed sprinkles and distant rumbles of thunder, a profound peace fell over me. Low clouds raced across an ever lightening sky. Misty gray patches gave way to growing holes of brighter blue. Suddenly, the sky ignited, ablaze with fire.

What was that old nautical adage? Red sky at morning--sailors take warning!  I smiled. A lifetime ago, this superstitious individual would have taken the red sky as an omen. But this morning...for the first time this week I felt completely and utterly at peace. No worries, no bad joo joo. Our fleeting storm passed on, leaving everything fresh and new, washing over me like an early morning baptism.

Had the Universe orchestrated this pageant for my personal enlightenment?  Perhaps.  God is in control, and I don't have to be. I don't even need to understand it. And all I can say is, "Thank you, God...thank you, God...thank you, God, for this most perfect day."