September 29, 2002 A

"Stronger Flavors"

I woke to a chilly house, and rolled over to seek Julia's warmth. All summer, I was a 'touch-me-not', with a thin blanket partially draped over my mid-section. Now begins the season of the cuddle. At 6:00am, current weather is 69.1 F (20.6 C) according to the National Weather Service. Summer's 'reign of terror' is over, and daytime temperatures are no longer in the triple digits.

The season is changing, and with it, I feel new winds upon my soul as well. As I was not able to go to our favorite coffee gathering yesterday morning, Julia surprised me with a book of Rumi's poetry. The translater wasn't Coleman Barks, but Andrew Harvey, who imparted a bit of a Christian flavor to the poetry. Harvey admitted in his introduction ''On rare occasions, I have cut and slightly changed where I thought appropriate.'' I appreciate his honesty, at least. Still, these are poems and writings which may not be available elsewhere, so I'm grateful for what translation I do have.

In the intro, Harvey criticizes the limited view of Rumi that the 'new age' has been of him. Difficult truths have been fuzzied into what he calls 'Rosebud Rumi', a ''vague ecstatic sweetness and diffused 'warm-hearted' brotherhood'' So it's good to have a view of Rumi's THORNS, as well.

For there are always the thorns with the roses. After I was done working, I thought we needed a good beginning to the weekend, since it began late. We went to Monarch's Rest and had a splendid time. We split a Bangers and Mash, and afterwards had the appetizer, a spicy crawfish cajun cheese dip with breadsticks. I've gotten the taste for spicy things. Puzzled, I've been, that all the store-bought SALSAS never matched the power of restaurant salsa. At last, we experimented with one found in the refrigerated section, Montecito brand, labeled HOT. Ah, it warmed me until I felt my ears glow. Satisfaction, at last.

Thus it is, as we mature, we acquire a taste for stronger flavors. Wanting to avoid sugar, and all its harmful effects on me, ''Peel me from the ceiling, would you? Why can't you?'', I've missed those extravagant frappucino drinks with the major caffeine buzz they give. Julia found a solution. She bought Dulce De Leche flavored coffee beans at a specialty shop in Old Town yesterday, and made me coffee from it, adding about 50% milk and a tiny amount of honey. Wow, the buzz! I know it may sound odd, I who seek to avoid the 'sugar high', chasing after the 'caffeine high'. But a sugar high is painful to me, while a caffeine rush is exhilarating.

Such is the mystery of my sensitive system. Mysteries abound, and it may be best to leave it at that.

Stronger Flavors Stronger flavors, you want? Is the tame not so stimulating?   Seeking out on the long branch, reaching for the rare fruit? Better look inside. You have not tested what's hidden within your own deep earth. JAL, 9-29-02

False Thinking Infinate mercy flows continually, but you're asleep and can't see it. The Sleeper's robe goes on drinking river water while he frantically hunts mirages in dreams and runs continually here and there shouting, ''There'll be water further on, I know!'' It's this false thinking that blocks him from the path that leads to himself. By always saying ''Further on!'' he's become estranged from ''here'': Because of a false fantasy, he's driven from reality. Mevlâna Jalâluddîn Rumi, from the Mathnawi

 

September 29, 2002 - B

"Twenty Five Pounds"

One of the odd 'delights' of the web is spam from all over the world. An English pop-under ad promised to give you 25 pounds if you joined their bank. Ah, TWENTY FIVE POUNDS OF WHAT? You may ask for twenty five pounds of gold, but they may deliver twenty five pounds of manure!

 

September 29, 2002 - C

"Harvest Moon"

It is quarter after six this evening, and we have not needed the air conditioner all day. Naturally, my thoughts are turned to fall, and I was inspired to do a fall mandala:

Harvest Moon

''There's nothing startling or shocking about THIS mandala,'' Julia said with great dismay. ''In fact, the images, as opposed to your last mandala, are rather COMFORTING!''

I joked in an email to a friend about the skull mandala, that 'fluffy bunny' keeled over of fright when he saw that one. Of course, he scares easy, I acknowledged, too. 'Fluffy bunny', however, likes this one.

Now I know you're wondering where this 'fluffy bunny' metaphor came from. I've seen on a couple of websites the concept of the 'fluffy bunny pagan'. You know, all unicorns, kittens, rainbows and ''vague ecstatic sweetness and diffused 'warm-hearted' [SISTER]hood'' (to paraphrase Harvey).

Well, fluffy bunnies aren't all bad. Historian John Boswell has documented a long association of male homosexuality with the hare, from biblical times through the Middle Ages. Of course, those bunnies might not have been very FLUFFY, having had, like the velveteen rabbit, a good bit of the fur rubbed off of them. (You know, as in what RABBITS do, and OFTEN, too!)

Hurrumph! It might not have been necessary for me to clarify that point.

Anyway, I had great fun creating the mandala.

 

October 1, 2002

"Weep Not For Old Memories"

Looking at our wall calendar, I noted that it is now October. As my first journal entry was on October 31, 1996, I have nearly six years of online journalling behind me.

I was motivated to go back and read all the old October 1st entries. One from 1998 had me searching the house TODAY for an ''old tattered green notebook'' of Laura's I'd referred to back then. It had contained many of Laura's old writings, some written before I'd met her. Sadly, I cannot find it. I hope she didn't think it of sufficient interest to us and threw it away during our last move. But I can't find it. I've searched EVERY where. Fortunately I did quote one of her poems in that entry, ''Broken Mind''. So at least that much has been preserved.

But perhaps that folder is only in an obscure location. Meanwhile, the entry from 1999 finds me declaring ''I Have Come A Long Way'' for ''I'm just me'' and not caring so much what people think of me. These are sentiments I still joyfully possess.

Jumping ahead to the year 2000, I cheerfully exhort people to ''Use Your Own Mind'' and beware of charlatans who promise everything but deliver nothing, and that 'nothing' at great cost.

In 2001, thoughts of the WAR were heavy upon me, and after a long cathartic poem, I declared myself Spent Of Hatred, and had this positive thought: ''Think, if the power of hatred is this, how much greater the power of love?''

Jumping back in time to 1997, I had no entry on the first of October. The one of the Third finds me reminiscing about old times with family members. ''While I am certain my life choices have horrified them, I know they love me as best they can,'' I declared. Several years hence, I sadly feel more distant from them. I do not know if this will change in the future. Though, I will not shut the door of hope.

The September 26th entry just before that one found me rejoicing for acquisition of a favorite song on CD. Its lyrics are appropriate for today's look back in time:

''Remember the good times that we had?'' the singer asks. I have been doing that tonight. Sarah McLachlan goes on to implore:

"...I will remember you,
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by,
Weep not for old memories...."

by Sarah McLachlan, Seamus Egan and Dave Merenda

 

October 2, 2002

"From Beyond"

It's Wednesday morning and I can't sleep. Oh, it's not the usual Wednesday blues. I've not been 'weeping for old memories', or the lack of making new ones with Laura, which I do sometimes, because I miss her. Yesterday morning, on route to work, a song came on the radio which ellicited a few tears. It was like Laura was channeling through the earnest baritone singer and singing it to me from beyond: