High Noon of the Year

I spent the Solstice evening drumming with some friends from the drum circle. It was lovely, but it's also a little tiring for me to be around these new friends. I'm not sure how close I want to get to them, as they seem...dramatic. They are into the whole pagan-shaman thing, which is cool, and which I relate to on some level, but. But I don't want to talk about assorted spirits nonstop, and I tire quickly of gossip about this-or-that shaman who is using his or her power improperly. It all seems a little silly to me, and quite discordant to the Buddhist values I hold of right speech and non-attachment. I'm tempted to tell these friends--who really are lovely people, talented in both music and their own way of interacting with Spirit--I'm tempted to tell them the truth: That reciting your own storylines of pain or anger over and over gives those stories more power and causes you more suffering. They are attached to their suffering. We all are, truly, our minds cling; such is human nature. But they delude themselves into thinking that they are protecting each other and resolving things by talking, talking, talking this way; wasting precious breath on what amounts to gossip.

But the true problem is that, look! Look, I'm doing it right now, in a way. Why am I attaching to the storyline of their attachment to storyline? You could say, it's because you want to protect them, but that is the same reason they would give as they relish their dramas! Perhaps that energy of attachment is too strong with them and I should leave the group. Because look, I'm picking it up.
***

In other news, I baked challah. Ironically, I baked this traditional Jewish celebration bread for a baptism I'm going to today. I thought the festive occasion called for a festive bread, perhaps with a nice braid. I also baked a loaf for me and G. to eat, and it is perhaps the most wonderful thing I've baked yet (except those scones...and that Jacques Pepin almond cake...). Well, let's say, at any rate, that it's the most wonderful bread I've baked. It is perfectly soft inside, light and airy and so so soft. The outside is golden brown with just the faintest whisper of sweetness. Maybe we'll just stay home and gorge ourselves on both giant loaves today.

Do they sell insulin to non-diabetics who want to overeat bread grossly? Maybe in Mexico.

***

The weather is a dream. Mornings are clear and lovely, puffy white clouds, blue skies, and breezes. Not a spec of humidity. Then darker clouds roll in through the afternoon, treating us to late afternoon thunderstorms. These pass and yield to cool evenings. It's the most beautiful, perfect weather I remember in a long time.

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There is more, but I must go. Reminders for myself/teasers for you: Thich Nhat Hanh, shiatsu space.

Much Better

The new carpet is a toasty brown. It's a little darker than I'd remembered it, but it looks fantastic. Makes the whole place seem bigger, lighter, and cleaner. What a lift.

The old carpet was apparently, well, old. Yes, the color was obviously circa the 1987 "teal and dusty rose" craze, but archaeology supported our theory. Apparently there was a good quarter-inch of combined dust and eroded carpet (like so much sand) beneath the old pad. The Carpet Guys said this meant that the carpet was old.

The archaeologists/carpet guys also noticed that there was a seam running down the middle of the hallway. For those unfamiliar with best practices of carpet laying, this is not exactly correct. As the scholar studying the archaeologists' findings, I've concluded that perhaps the previous owners carpeted with remnants to save money. That would explain both the seam and the color...unless they actually liked the color. Which could be possible c 1987. Maybe they were psyched to find a teal remnant.

Room 1, Chaos. Room 2, Pandemonium.

(From an email I sent yesterday)

Our little condo is in chaos this morning because we are improving the feng shui with new carpeting. Out with the bluegreen floors of the previous owners, in with a light tan! All of our worldly possessions--aside from the furniture itself--are stacked and shoved in the kitchen, with only a small avenue clear to reach the fridge, coffeemaker (for G), electric kettle (for me), and toaster. We even emptied our storage closet into the kitchen. (That closet doesn't even have the bluegreen carpet of the rest of the place. It has the original, bright orange, shag carpet! Oh my!)

The carpet layers will move the empty furniture into the common hallway as they work. It should be interesting. G is home to help, I am hiding at work.

The cats are funny in their reactions to the odd situation. Cats are very territorial, you know. They generally like things to Stay The Same. Noah was distressed last night as we engaged in the absurd act of packing all our belongings into the kitchen. He kept looking up at us and "quacking" for reassurance. Luna, on the other hand, was excited that she could jump into the empty bookshelves, climb over the growing jungle gym of boxes, and generally get in the way.

We also used the opportunity to pack the car with lots of items to donate to charity. Some were odds and ends our parents have given us over the years, such as decorative boxes and baskets, miscellaneous lamps, and two picnic baskets (we kept the third). The donations also include odd clothing my grandmother bought me (hot pink dress pants, for example), a complicated boardgame, and my collection of throw pillows. I made sure to give thanks for all the items and the kind thoughts and good memories that came with them. Be free, miscellaneous items! Be free!