The Pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving.

H.U. Westermayer

 and...

To those who followed Columbus and Cortez, the New World truly seemed incredible because of the natural endowments. The land often announced itself with a heavy scent miles out into the ocean. Giovanni di Verrazano in 1524 smelled the cedars of the East Coast a hundred leagues out. The men of Henry Hudson's Half Moon were temporarily disarmed by the fragrance of the New Jersey shore, while ships running farther up the coast occasionally swam through large beds of floating flowers. Wherever they came inland they found a rich riot of color and sound, of game and luxuriant vegetation. Had they been other than they were, they might have written a new mythology here. As it was, they took inventory.

Frederick Turner

--Washington Irving

After returning earlier this month from my week-long Living Buddhism class at a monastery, I had been trying to meditate for at least twenty minutes a day and be more "mindful." I'd also been trying to practice gratitude even when things don't always seem to be moving in the direction I'd hoped (such as lining up more freelance projects). Suddenly today I felt terribly out of sorts and wondered if I was regressing back to my default cynical/realistic self. "I guess I'll never make it as a Buddhist" is my general fall back attitude when that happens.

One of my new initiatives upon returning home has been to look at my surroundings with new eyes--kind of like being a tourist in your own back yard. So lately I take my camera with me everywhere I go in the hopes that I can snap a great shot (yes I'm still living in the prehistoric era with my 35 mm camera).

Thus, I was on my way to meet my friend T. for a belated b'day dinner this evening. As I drove down our street, suddenly I noticed the light was changing as the sun was setting and the background of the sky against the leaves on the trees looked absolutely gorgeous so I stopped to snap a picture. I found myself headed down Golf road when I noticed that the setting sun was leaving a glorious shade of color in its wake with hazy whisps of clouds overlaying the color palette so I snapped another shot at a red light.

Suddenly, I felt one of those moments of grace that sometimes catches you unaware. Amidst all my irritation, frustration and just downright glumness, I felt a glimmer of happiness come over me and life felt pretty ok after all.

As I noted in a previous post, I don't remember my dreams very often. I either a) don't dream or b) typically move out of the dream state and have no recall of my dreams. When I do remember a dream, I try to record it or think about it further. Was my subconscious trying to send me a message?

I recently was awakened in the midst of a dream where I got in my car on a sunny day to drive home--suddenly large drops of water started appearing on my windshield. Then I noticed that my windshield wipers were missing and just the bottom part was swishing back and forth. As the water continued to pour down in streams across my windshield, I kept driving somehow trusting that I would be ok. 

Maybe I'm just feeling like I can't see more than a few feet in front of me right now, but I have to keep "driving" and have faith in myself and a higher power to help me find my way back home.

and while I observe, there is no observer, only a beauty almost like love

For an instant, I am absent, myself and my problems, my anxieties, my troubles: nothing but this wonder exists

-Krishnamurti

Even though my father was originally from India, he had a fondness for country music. I remember hearing Loretta Lynn and other country music crooners played repeatedly on the stereo during his extreme country phase. He introduced me to Alison Krauss, one of my favorite singers, after seeing her on a musical program broadcast from the White House during the Clinton years.

For over a year after my father died, I couldn’t bear to play the Alison Krauss CDs that he loved so much—it was too painful. I vividly remember stopping by to visit sometimes and being upset about a relationship going sour, or a disappointment in some other area of my life and my dad would say as I was leaving, “Take the Alison Krauss CD, or the Yanni CD and it will make you feel better.” When my dad’s health started to fail, I thought to myself on more than one occasion, when he’s gone, I’ll have his music to feel close to him and it’s so true.

Lately I’ve been playing Alison Krauss a lot and I wondered why. But I guess it all makes sense when you think about it.

Svetasvatara Upanishad

One of the sound-worlds that make Norwegian vocal music so distinctive is the tradition of singing  without words, a style known as tulling, sulling or tralling in which a sequence of consonants is invented or improvised by the singer...there is also a type of traditional singing known as lokk or laling, short motifs to call home cattle at night on mountain farms and also an effective means of communication over long distances...in Norway the use of rope-tensioned drums probably goes back as far as medieval times. Around 1628, when Norway founded its own independent army, each regiment aspired to have drummers of its own. The military connection meant the the drum became a highly respected instrument, and drummers were frequently engaged to play for weddings, dances and other celebrations. Thus the military drum tradition also became a folk music tradition...

Maybe it's just me, but I find this all very fascinating. Here's their website:

http://www.triomediaeval.no/about.htm

When I was little, our family traveled frequently between the U.S. and Africa and Europe because we lived in Africa for much of my childhood. I distinctly remember looking out the plane window during those flights at the vast ocean and feeling kind of scared about what would happen if the plane had to land in the ocean. Even as an adult, whenever I see the flight path showing that we're flying over the ocean, those childhood fears come back to me. But it hasn't been enough to keep me from flying yet.

I was also thinking recently about all the traveling my father used to do for work and how I never thought about the possibility of his not returning from one of his transtlantic flights. We take our safety and our loved ones' safety for granted until a tragedy like this happens.