There's a strange mix of energy out and about this December. Luckily the weather here has been calm, clear and warm, a December summer that fades into dark at 5 p.m. The various neighborhoods surrounding L.A. are holding Winter Festivals anyway, with hot chocolate stands, one-of-a-kind crafts, tree lighting ceremonies, and local music. I admire the quest for tradition, even in this time of jolting changes. Attendance is down.
The other morning, my neighbor left a pile of lemons on the curb--it's understood that they are available for anyone to take--his offering in an abundant December harvest, even in the short daylight. I took two large ones home to sit in a bowl with my tangerine harvest, and felt content.
That night was strange, though. Around 10:00 p.m. there was a helicopter circling the neighborhood, loud and low. Very loud and low. Given the times, it was quite disconcerting. Was it ICE? Had there been some adverse event that no one had announced yet? Was it really a helicopter, or a drone. Too loud for a drone I decided. I did a quick search and found several people were also searching on a neighborhood app. Finally a neighborhood post announced confidently that is was a police helicopter. and speculated that it was a night training exercise. Whether that was true or not, I don't know, but a sense of community awareness brought calm.
In my meditation, these lines from Emily Dickinson came: "Futile the winds to a heart in port; done with the compass, done with the chart! Rowing in Eden, ah, the sea; might I but moor, tonight, in thee." I decided to be moored, despite the disruptive night.
The next morning, I opened the blinds to still, quiet Beauty. The mountain was still; the sky resolutely clear. Only a slight morning breeze stirred the tangerines still on the tree. The oranges were vibrant, the pomelo's and grapefruits had just a blush of green. The grass held scattered brown, yellow, and red leaves as a reminder of late fall. I thought, "Maybe this is indeed Eden, and we only get a glimpse of it, outside the veil." This time in meditation, just watching my breath, not controlling the breath in any kind of practice, just watching the breath, came the words of T.S. Eliot: "Teach us to care, and not to care, teach us to sit still."
We can't ignore the struggles of the world, looming catastrophes, or human suffering. Yet, we are also here to take in those moments of Eden. Our task is to find our place, and contribute our share of Good. Meditation, in all its various forms, can clarify our day to day actual path. Every morning, Life comes rushing in. Every day is new event. This week, with Hanukkah beginning this Sunday and Christmas on it's way, is a natural time to give yourself the gift of a"re-set"in stillness. (Susan Nettleton).
for more poetry: https://optimisticbeacon.com/2025/08/03/sound-of-stillness-basho-cicadas-cry/ https://www.yogawithsusana.com/post/today-by-mary-oliver https://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Poets/L/LevertovDeni/OfBeing/index.html