Child’s sled for sale

Slightly cracked

Used only once.

Is there a reason

Why

I am always leaving

Or coming back to you

But never staying. 

I want to thank everyone for being who you are. As you know yesterday was the Powerball. I actually bought a ticket. After having a fun two days of day dreaming about what I would do if I won, the drawing came about. Last week there was a NY Times article about Buddhist monks mediating over the bodies of dead people.The point was that mediating over the bodies of dead people makes us think about the fact that life, my life, your life, is temporary. The one thing we know is that each of us will die. Some sooner than later, others later than sooner. So since you are going to die, at some guaranteed but unknown date, are you living your life the way you would like to live it? If I told you, you would die next week, what would you do differently, today? You probably would not be on social media, reading this post, or maybe you would. What the author pointed out, is that people who don’t know they are going to die spend way more money, than people who know they are going to die.  It seems money, and what it can buy, in the face of death, isn’t that important.  A friend spent some time this past summer in Tibet.  When she came back she said that she did not want to forget to be grateful.  Grateful? we asked.  She replied, ‘For all the things we have here, like hot water, and indoor plumbing.’  My eldest sister, had a similar thought when she came back from India.  My youngest sister, just came back, I will have to ask her if she had the same thought.

So what does this all mean?   If you knew you were going to die in a month, would you prefer to message a friend, or go and see them? Would you prefer to sit on your couch and refresh that browser for the 60th time that hour, or actually go out for a walk?   Would you text or call?  Would you eat home, or go out with friends?   I know what I would do.   So if you see me a little less on social media, wait Luminary evening is next week. OK so after Luminary evening if you see me less on social media, you’ll know why. I’m out for a walk.   Oh yes, I didn’t win the Powerball Lottery, but you guessed that already. I have however already won. I won because I have great friends, family, work peers, work allies, and great patients and their familys in my life.  At the end of the day, the $2 dollar ticket bought me some great fantasies, better than spending it on two donuts, or an expensive coffee.  And it also helped me realize, I really am where I want to be at this time in my life.  So, yeah, Thanks Powerball. If I had won, you would have ruined my life.

After writing this, I listened to On being with Krista Tippet and in the interview with Stephen Batchelor in the last 5 minutes he discusses Buddhist meditating on death and how that influences life.

The leaves have been raked

They fell abundantly this year,


When you were young you would run around


and jump in the piles as we raked.



The lawn furniture has been cleaned,


and carefully stowed away,


Your favorite lawn chair cushion has been stored.


Your favorite blanket lies with you

.

The bird feeders have been cleaned
.

The thistle seed is out.


No squirrels yet!


Without you, however, they will likely be much more brave.



The almost last of the vegetables have been picked


The vegetable plot and your favorite sweet peas


still need to be covered
.

We put you next to the sweet peas,

they were always your favorite.



With all this activity


We both still find ourselves turning to look


expecting to see you lying basking on the grass in the sun
.

Lifting your head,

and then laying it back down before napping again.




 

 

If you could have anything,

what would you ask for?

If the whole word was a possibility,

would you want that sweet moist long kiss from a gorgeous blond,

on a moonlit tropical beach, as you both take you clothes off to dive into that ocean.

 

If you could have anything,

what would you ask for?

Maybe you would want the latest and greatest turn your wrist into an electronic miracle

that lets you surf the web faster than anyone you know,

that would make the whole world a possibility, for you?

 

If you could have anything,

What would you ask for?

What if you live in Syria and the combatants carpet bombed your house while your parents were home?

What if the ocean rose and stole your child and village away?

What if the militants exploded an IED that stole the love of your life from you?

What if the plane carrying your family was shot by a warring party?

What if the rains caused a mud slide and you live in a rural village so that the mud is even now covering your body and about to cover your mouth?

What if you had no food and your infant son could not suckle from your breast and looked at you that one last time before closing his eyes?

if you could have anything,
would you ask for one more minute,
to hold onto them,
before your world changed forever?

 

If you could have anything?

Would you give some of it away?

Because if you are reading this on one of your multiple computers or mobile devices,

to most of the world,

You already do have everything.

 

In my twenties, searching through a dusty attic,
I found an old coat.
It was a stylish long coat.
With that, and a beret, I made my way,
through many a wild night.
I was still wearing that coat the fall I met my wife.

When I asked,
I was told it was my uncle’s coat.
Long discarded years ago,
as he formed a family,
and moved from being a young man to a husband and father.

My uncle seemed to always have a smile.
He was so full of wit and wisdom and life.
We thought of him as the great Adventurer,
our own living version of Davy Crocket.

My brothers and sisters recall many stories of my uncle.
What I recall is how he made my mother, his sister, smile;
how he obviously still loved and cherished his wife;
how he loved his children, my cousins.
What I recall is how he showed that love,
often with affection and that smile.
My sisters recall his dog.

When it was my turn to move from boyhood to husband and father,
that coat ended up in my attic.
Like my uncle my life turned to more serious things.
Time and days passing,
as my own children grew and then spread their wings.

The fall is ending and the winter snows are not that far away.
My Aunt and I talked.
My uncle has enjoyed his last fall.
Somewhere now.
my uncle is on his next journey,
I’m sure he’s smiling.
I’m sure he has a story to tell.
I’m sure he’s carrying a fishing pole.
I’m sure he’s pausing, looking for his Mary Jo.
I’m sure he’s whistling for that dog.

Now that winter is around the corner,
Maybe its time to take down that coat from the attic.
Brush it off, and remember.

Cuando era joven
Soñé sueños de un joven
Cuando yo era viejo
Soñé sueños de un anciano
Cuando desperté me di cuenta
Que el sueño era la realidad
y que la realidad era el sueño.
Si yo sueño contigo
¿Va a ser real
o simplemente una gota de limón
dada por una taza de té
en la parte posterior de la tortuga
en la que el mundo descansa,
mientras sueña.

When I was young
I dreamed a young man’s dreams
When I was old
I dreamed an old man’s dreams
When I awoke I realized
That the dream was the reality
and that reality was the dream.
If I dream of you
Will you be real
or simply a lemon drop
left by a tea cup
on the back of turtle
on which the world rests,
while dreaming.

When the day dawned,
that first pink light of day,
streamed across your faces as each of you lay sleeping.
You lived, you breathed, you had dreams.

By days end, the three of you and four others,
all lay bleeding, for what strange twisted reason?
It does not really matter.
By days end, your three young lives were gone.

What was left was the grieving.
The questions, the questioning.
The finger pointing, the assuming.
The chest thumping, the grandstanding.

But for those closest to you,
for those you held most dear,
comes the realization,
that pain and sorrow, those two melancholy twins,
have depths that they did not know existed.

And what of my city, my town, my street?
What of those who did not know you?
What of those whose daily lives,
daily take them past the place your blood was spilled?

After the TV lights have left,
After the outrage has died,
After all but those who loved you most,
have forgotten your names.

How can we continue to honor your lives?
How can we not look at the particular whys,
but instead at the broader why,
Why in this City, on that night,
were your three black loved lives deemed so cheap.

As the day ends, and the sunset moves to dark.
Know that many loved you.
Many who never knew you in life, now care for you in death.
Know that in some hearts your deaths have ignited small flames.

Those flames and those embers of those flames,
those flames that call for equality, equal opportunity, and hope,
are the only flames after all,
that can burn away the past,
and bring about a new glorious dawn to a better world.