Sunday, December 27, 2009


The last time I stayed in Aina's downstairs apt I was with my mother. I remember she couldn't sleep because she was too cold. So I plugged in a heating pad and put it under her feet. Soon she was sleeping like a child. She passed away Nov 14, 1996 and I still miss her. I used to think her death was my greatest loss and then we lost Brandon, too.
Mae Sarton paid a visit to her friends the Warner family and noted "that Esmeralda the donkey is dead." So I wonder if Esmeralda was the inspiration for the novel "Ulysses and Joanna".
Yogananda wrote, "Do not look for a spiritual flower every day." Not when life has provided a garden of spiritual abundance. Yes, I am often overwhelmed by the gracious Creator who heaps such blessings about us. Today I feast. But tomorrow I may go hungry searching for a single small spiritual flower.
Jenkinson worried "my poverty of culture must show like dandruff on a blue suit." When I find myself on the fringes of another culture I seek our commonalities and our shared humanity. In this way l embrace the other and the other frequently embraces me.
On my return from a frosty morning walk I saw the skid marks of a playful young deer on the icy road. Not one skid but a series of eight. So I fancied that I saw the youngster skating down the road. Not on silver blades but shiny black hooves.
Last night I saw six deer beyond the window. What a midnight wonder to behold.

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