Notes from the field on Christmas
First holidays abroad. I would say alone, but that would
only be an ego-driven projection seeking some sort of comfort – still, I feel
compelled to say ‘alone’ because it seems like the ‘natural’ thing to say. Oh,
the stories we tell ourselves! And although I am sitting here ‘alone’ writing
this note, the moment I reflect on the richness of even this solitary moment
the invisible web of love and connection again shows itself, as luminous as
ever. Wearing one of my dad’s old hunting shirts, which my sister so
thoughtfully sent across the ocean so as to give me a magical hug from a person
whose lineage and life I carry in my heart. Burning a bright beautiful lavender
candle, just opened from Mom, shipped across mountains and deserts and
continents to brighten my day. Its scents are associated with the crown
chakra, and the label states the simple yet magical truth that through
meditation and prayer we surrender and experience whole body happiness. Sunlight shape shifts through my windows, a
daily marvel of mine. Three varieties of tea line my bedside table. Classical
music soft and sweet, Borodin and Chopin, dances throughout the room.
The evening before, and even the somewhat tumultuous night
of sleep seems romantic in retrospect. It was a Christmas Eve for the ladies,
and I hosted Japanese, American, South African, and Taiwanese girlfriends for
wine, snacks, smiles, laughs, and generally lovely company. Two of the
friends from Tokyo slept in my bed, and I crawled into the loft to sleep, cozy
and warm. Too cozy and warm, as I woke up in the middle of the night to take my
socks off and cast off the blanket, only to be answered by a distant rumbling
of a small earthquake. Somehow the world responds to us, always, and it can be
subtle or strong, calm or terrifying, but there is something so sacred about
listening to that dialogue.
The lazy morning gave way to a sudden burst of excitement to
walk the city at midday and smile at everyone I saw. My lonely bicycle needed rescuing, it being
left during my travels for weeks. Oh how I missed her (him?). The sky was clear
and crisp, blue like the ocean. People bundled in coats and scarves, like me. A
day like any other I suppose. A beautiful day. I walked in a general direction
with no particular route. Veered toward a Buddhist store where a monk stood outside gazing in, bundled in many layers yet conspicuous by his white tabi socks and sandals. Passed a stolid yet empathic stone bodhisattva a few doors down.
Felt suddenly compelled to take a right down a road I’d never ventured. The
road led me to Shôsei-en, gardens of 17th century design and many
centuries before then of repute.
Meandering through this beautiful place on this beautiful day in this beautiful land far away from my roots (at least those traceable in this lifetime) where celebration was reaching its annual apex…I felt so much peace and calm and presence. It was the best present, the best gift, I could have imagined. So take that unexpected right, or left, or up, or down. Listen to the surprises, open arms and hearts to the gifts of this life. Signing off this note on Christmas night, 2013, with soup of the stove, Debussy in my ears, and love in my heart. Love to all!
The evening before, and even the somewhat tumultuous night
of sleep seems romantic in retrospect. It was a Christmas Eve for the ladies,
and I hosted Japanese, American, South African, and Taiwanese girlfriends for
wine, snacks, smiles, laughs, and generally lovely company. Two of the
friends from Tokyo slept in my bed, and I crawled into the loft to sleep, cozy
and warm. Too cozy and warm, as I woke up in the middle of the night to take my
socks off and cast off the blanket, only to be answered by a distant rumbling
of a small earthquake. Somehow the world responds to us, always, and it can be
subtle or strong, calm or terrifying, but there is something so sacred about
listening to that dialogue. 
The lazy morning gave way to a sudden burst of excitement to
walk the city at midday and smile at everyone I saw. My lonely bicycle needed rescuing, it being
left during my travels for weeks. Oh how I missed her (him?). The sky was clear
and crisp, blue like the ocean. People bundled in coats and scarves, like me. A
day like any other I suppose. A beautiful day. I walked in a general direction
with no particular route. Veered toward a Buddhist store where a monk stood outside gazing in, bundled in many layers yet conspicuous by his white tabi socks and sandals. Passed a stolid yet empathic stone bodhisattva a few doors down.
Felt suddenly compelled to take a right down a road I’d never ventured. The
road led me to Shôsei-en, gardens of 17th century design and many
centuries before then of repute.Meandering through this beautiful place on this beautiful day in this beautiful land far away from my roots (at least those traceable in this lifetime) where celebration was reaching its annual apex…I felt so much peace and calm and presence. It was the best present, the best gift, I could have imagined. So take that unexpected right, or left, or up, or down. Listen to the surprises, open arms and hearts to the gifts of this life. Signing off this note on Christmas night, 2013, with soup of the stove, Debussy in my ears, and love in my heart. Love to all!
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