El Jaguar Zoo de Oaxaca

Yay, I finally made it to El Jaguar Zoo in Oaxaca - for several years I've meant to get out there. A couple of years ago, when we got our car, I told Elo, our former caretaker that I would take her and now its too late, she cannot go and I have regrets.

I took myself out there early one morning this week and walked the paths of the rather impoverished effort alone but with Elo in mind. I know she would have loved to see the animals, especially the Jaguars - a pair so plump and lovely that they look like large pampered pets. The endangered species on display in this zoo are grand and can be seen without bars for the most part - some of the smaller animals are in cages with cyclone fencing.

As always, I felt sad for the bison - and the irony did not escape me that the sponser's sign in front of their pen was for McDonalds. And, oh, the surprise of seeing a grizzly bear, all golden and sweltering in her thick fur coat, stopped me in my tracks. I watched her bathe in her shallow pool, rejoicing in the cold water - I hope she dreams of salmon coursing up brilliant streams in the land from which she came.

When I left the zoo a small family begged a ride to the highway. I asked them what was their favorite animal and she said the giraffe, which I also loved. The gentleman said "El elefante, tan grandote". I was so surprised - I never saw an elephant in that zoo - where is it and how did I miss it? I have a reason to return.

From the Southlands

Arriving Oaxaca in Fall is a little like holding my breath under water - i know its just for awhile but it feels as tho it could last forever, a simultaneous sinking floating sensation. Every year the shock changes a bit - the smells are less pungent but the noise is more ferocious. Our pace is fast lane swift compared to the amble that is the mindset here. It takes weeks to adjust to it all, the elevation, the timing, the language, the light, the noise, the water, the heat or lack of it.

Its good to notice that everyday I surrender more and complain less. What is the initial resistance about? I love it here, But I love it there, too, on our island in the north. Here I am gleeful as I prance barefoot in the dawn on a rooftop overlooking the city - there I am cozy within the silence of the forest that grows along the shore. How wonderful is this, a life of contrasts? Is there a word for it?

Comes Autumn

Today dawn brings the sound of wind in the trees - colorful leaves litter the ground and grey clouds streak the sky. Who am I within the shift of seasons?
In the autumn of my life, entering my 59th year next month, I have to ask - who am I? A fiercer need to know arises from time to time, like floodwaters or desert temperatures. How do others define themselves? How do they define ME?

I can do thus and such; I feel this and that; I knew it once but it escapes me now. Beliefs have become like the leaves outside, blown hither and yon. Thoughts, too, are wispier, and dreams of achievement are faded or tarnished. Will I know myself in 10 years time? Did I know myself 10 minutes ago?

I seek refuge in the Buddha, hoping for wisdom to polish me, shine me up.
I pay homage to Mother Nature, there is peace there in the rhythms and patterns.
There is so much yet to be discovered, shared, acknowledged, deciphered, discarded - i experience delightenment even as enlightenment beckons.
And so it is...

Befriending

I read this today:

Befriend Who You Are
Lovingkindness—maitri—toward ourselves doesn’t mean getting rid of anything. Maitri means that we can still be crazy, we can still be angry. We can still be timid or jealous or full of feelings of unworthiness. Meditation practice isn’t about trying to throw ourselves away and become something better. It’s about befriending who we are already. The ground of practice is you or me or whoever we are right now, just as we are. That’s what we come to know with tremendous curiosity and interest.
-Pema Chodron, "We Can Still Be Crazy" (Winter 2002)

I like this very much. I think back to the people in my life who have befriended me. I think about the few others that I have befriended. Perhaps by befriending the Self the very nature of friendship itself changes.

May all be filled with loving kindness
May all be well
May all be peaceful and at ease
May all be happy

May I be loving May I be well May I be peace filled May I be happy


Accept Release Accept Release Accept Release

My practice is simple and i am grateful for that.

Drop in the Bucket

It is raining - today it started as a damp, then a sprinkle and now its really coming down. The trees are loving it but the cat won't go outside.

The power of water is amazing - rain falls, water evaporates, rises and makes more rain to fall. Our watery orb suspended in space is a marvel, a miracle of a planet. The watery cells of our body (held together by god knows what) cheer when the rain falls, I believe, as we are mostly water. And what of the desert dweller, the ones who see no water. do they dream of it?

Tears fall and the River of Sorrow fills and courses toward our destiny. Think of our blood! We melt into puddles of fear or freeze into pillars of salt and ocean waves mark time. We are but a drop in the bucket.

Nearer the Fear

I think one of the most challenging endeavors is to sit and write only what is true - not only is it sometimes difficult to discern the truth, it can take quite a bit of time as one must pause to question every sentence.  The mind is a trickster, it leadeth me into swampy lowlands.

Its effortless to list one's pet peeves, there are so many from which to choose - hair in the soap, sand on the floor, guests arriving empty handed, flowers dead in a vase, books with dirty pages, kids with filthy faces, and on and on.  And one can easily identify that which brings joy - the sounds of water and birdsong, color in the landscape, an unexpected kiss, a taste of a sweet creamy anything, and the smile of a loved one.  Its the in between that  troubles me sometimes.  The flow of the mundane that seems endless and eternal, nothing to rock the boat, no swells - where is the truth in that?

The Cat's Fur

Claudia the Cat likes to hike the mile with us.  In the afternoon we head down the road to the turn around and if she hears us she will follow and her long fur flows and bobs as she picks up speed reminding me of a show dog, an Afgan or a Lhasa.  She is a clean beauty, this cat; black with white feet and a moustache and a long white bib.  I think how great it would be to BE her - low to the ground, swift and svelte with a penchant for Friskies Ocean Whitefish Savory Shreds.  Ah yes, I might adore the simple life of a cat, bringing beauty and pleasure to humans and terror to rodents and small stupid birds.
mmrreow.