dmdubay

The one word forecast for today’s weather on the front page was: miserable. And by late afternoon that would have been an accurate description. By the time nightfall came around, I would have described it as a dark and stormy night. Before that, though, it was perfect weather for planting tulips. I am thankful for the cool, cloudy and breezy weather we had while cutting the dahlias and planting the bulbs. And I am tremendously grateful for our warm and cozy house protecting us from the howling wind outside in the midst of night.

Today I am grateful mainly for my family. That means so many things, one of which is embracing my Finnish heritage and the long line of ancestors rooted in a culture that is embedded in my DNA. I used to cringe at the old-country sounding accents that gave us away. “What hicks!” I thought. I wanted to blend in with the rest of society and not be associated with a stubborn, unsophisticated bunch of hardheads. But I was missing the boat. The qualities I most appreciate in myself and others today are endurance and longsuffering—stick-to-it-iveness. These characteristics are important in this instant culture where everything and seemingly everyone demand an instant solution to every problem. The Finns have a word for this intestinal fortitude, or guts, you might say: sisu. The word is not directly translatable but it is the quality you see in a person facing adversity who bears up and doesn’t give in. It engenders a resourcefulness and practicality—characteristics for which Finns are famous. So, yes, I am grateful for my roots. I give thanks to the many souls who have gone before me and on this All Souls Day it seems fitting to do so.

family

Well, I’ve practiced and reflected for a whole month on letting go. Has my load gotten any lighter? (I did lose a couple of pounds.) Truthfully, I did not get rid of all the useless junk around my house. I did not clean all my bookshelves. I still carry some—well, maybe many—prejudices, grudges, fears and deleterious attitudes. But my grasp has loosened a tiny bit. The positives for this month of letting go have been: awareness of the many things to which I cling; a growth in willingness to let go; and a growing hope that one day I will truly be free of all that binds me in order to live in the vivid magnificence of every moment. Isn’t that what heaven is all about?

I don’t really think detachment means that I don’t care about things. I do care, passionately. It’s one thing to embrace life’s experiences with gusto and thoroughly enjoy what is offered each day, and an entirely different thing to be so attached to a particular object or practice that nothing else is life giving. I want to be open to seeing all the beauty and goodness and love wherever and however it is offered. If that means letting go of one thing to hold another, that’s what I want to do. I am reminded of the story of the monkey who reached into a cage to grab a piece of fruit and would not let go. Unable to pull its hand out without the fruit, it eventually starved to death. It would not release the fruit to become free.

mindfulness

Books: I have thousands. How can I let them go? Some are so dear to me I would read them over and over—if I had the time. Others, I mean to get around to, but on starting them, I find they don’t hold my interest. So why do I hang on to them all? Anymore I try to avoid bookstores because I cannot leave without at least three books. Am I a bookaholic? Help! I need suggestions on how to thin down my burgeoning bookshelves or soon I won’t be able to make my way out of my house and will be buried under tons of books. (Did I ever mention I have a tendency towards exaggeration?) Please, let me know if there are others out there who have a similar problem. It would be nice to know I am not alone. And maybe we can a start a books anonymous association.

love of books

I have been under the weather the past few days. (That’s a great expression, especially here in western Washington. I looked up the origin of the expression and found it has nautical origins. The most common explanation is that a sailor who is sick is sent below decks where he is protected from the weather. So I guess I’ve been actually under the weather, because I have spent most of the time in the house.) I couldn’t do the things I normally do without great effort. I had no energy. It is difficult to let go of good health. When I feel normal and full of energy, it’s impossible for me to relate to people who are not well. I think—or say—“why don’t they just get up and start exercising?” When I found myself in the same situation, I had no energy to get up and go, especially after I got stung by a wasp and had to take Benadryl, which keeps me groggy for

a foggy morning

days. So I guess it’s a good lesson for me. Walk a mile in another’s shoes. Maybe by letting go of health and vigor I will become more compassionate.