new beginnings

The first day of Spring. Just pausing a moment to think about how I (we?) make a point of renewal in certain events….New Year, Vernal Equinox, major birthdays, anniversaries of significant events in my life. Yet, every day, probably every hour, offers the opportunity to change my habits, thinking, or the direction of my life. This morning, I brewed my usual mug of good coffee. What if I had steeped a cup of a vibrant tea? Or, skipped the stimulus entirely? Would that tiny act be a new beginning?

Two photos from the street. Spring was anticipated by someone who planted the iris bulbs or planned the blooming street tree. And, their action created a sign of renewal for everyone passing by.

I posted a different tree in bloom a couple of weeks ago. It fascinates me to think that just a block away from the previous post, this tree has suddenly burst into bloom. The micro-climates in the City are amazing!

free expression

What constitutes the rights of an “artist” to make a statement? Is it protected speech? Or, does it simply become an object, a thing, once it is created?

This new “expression” near my home covers part of a mural at a playground that had already seen additional “expression” by graffiti artists.

The first amendment to the Constitution is central to how Americans see our rights. Restrictions on expressing our opinions, ideas, hopes & fears are sometimes seen as unlimited. Yet, there are dozens of restrictions from incitement to a crime to defamation or obscenity.

Artists, whom I respect, in our community argue that graffiti is free speech. Yet, defacing the "speech" of another is a line that I am unwilling to negotiate. If freedom to make an artistic statement impinges on the rights of others…for speech, for property rights, for a livable community…should it be protected? When it is egregious disregard for community values and simply blatant egotism, I can't justify it.

And, when the building is finally re-painted as protection against the weather, is that an infringement on the speech of the muralist, the graffiti artist and the most recent shadow painter?

pollen

Everywhere in my neighborhood there is an explosion of Spring. 

Allergies are a main topic of conversation. 

Thinking about pollen and its essential role in propagating life ─ 

why has human sensitivity evolved in a counter direction. 

What does our immune system reflect about our disconnect 

with natural processes? 

No answer. Just a question.

spontaneous smiling

Walking down Valencia Street yesterday, I realized 

that how I observe people, the place, the action has changed. 

The awareness came as I realized that in one city-block,  I had smiled 

at an overheard conversation of two young women discussing a potential boyfriend; 

smiled at the look of boredom on a child in a stroller; 

and smiled at the fierce look of a gentle bulldog on a bejeweled leash. 

The three smiles, spontaneous, without judging the observation 

is a leap forward for me. 

And, I think it can be attributed to the Small Stone project: 

being part of the observation, not making an intellectual assessment.

This photo has nothing to do with the musing above. I just like it. :-)

in the moment

Most of us live very little in the present.

If we could watch our thoughts,

we would be surprised to see how much time

we spend in the past or future –

or simply daydreaming, out of time altogether.

Very seldom can we say we are fully present

in the present moment.

Yet now is the only time there is. 

                Eknath Easwaran

The glorious reality of Spring seems to help me stay in the moment, 

at least for a moment. 

It made me think of this quote from an important teacher in my life. 

Easwaran's focus on living in the moment

is one of my most difficult challenges.

When a painted lady touched my arm

Today’s unseasonably warm weather reminded me of a beautiful moment.

FROM MY NOTES 3/15/05

As I walked west on 19^th St. in front of my house, on one of the warmest Spring days in SF history, I slowed to watch a beautiful butterfly--a painted lady--it flew up and slowly lit on my left hand--stunned--I just watched and held my hand perfectly still. After a time, it gently dropped to the warm sidewalk--maybe to catch some of the last warmth of the day. I watched for a long time and then turned up the slightly curving staircase to my front door. I could barely see to put the brass key into the lock--tears filled my eyes and sped down my cheeks. An angel? A departed spirit? I thought of the line from my love poem, Paradox,

Certainty emerging

from passion

                       

Constancy woven

of desire, fantasy, hope

Catching time as it flows

missing its immediacy

Intricate contingencies of love

cannot bear stasis

Unsure waft of a butterfly’s passing

as real as death 

 Sadly, I did not have a photo of the painted lady (vanessa cardui), but love this photo from another Spring.

what was ordinary

The meaning of life changes when we confront loss.

Our search for meaning and purpose

leaves us wandering and bewildered.

What was ordinary yesterday

becomes precious today,

and what was precious yesterday

seems dull and lusterless.

What we liked becomes uninteresting,

but what we love becomes everything.
                                                 ~ Stephen Levine