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.
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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.

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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.