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A note
from Christine:
(from her
blog
10/4/10)
Yoga instructor Rodney Yee says that balance is not a static thing -
you fall out of balance and come back into balance...there is
constant motion and fluidity. I notice that in my life and in my
garden. Just when I've given up hope on myself or my shrimp plant,
the rain will fall, a friend will say the perfect thing, a gift will
appear that is exactly what I need, the weather will cool and
suddenly my stressed plant or spirit are full of life and vitality.
The hard part is trusting that.
My mother-in-law now lives at a facility close to us
and she is getting more of my attention than my garden. She has
Alzheimer's and as her mind begins to unravel she becomes more and
more childlike and wears her heart on her sleeve like never before.
She has a way of leaning in to Chris, my husband and her son, and
sitting forehead to forehead for awhile - she seems to find that
comforting. The other night I received a blessing from a joyful
Tibetan lama and he did the same thing - forehead to forehead for a
profound moment of connection. Wherever we find the support to empty
our minds and lighten our burdens, we should lean into it.
With temperatures in the high 90's for the last couple
of months, issues with migraine headaches, too much on my plate and
too many mosquitoes, I wasn't leaning into my garden. As the weather
shifts and the temperature drops I find myself wandering around out
there or simply sitting on the porch being still, seeking balance.
... the garden will have to wait once again. It's always
there when I return though, waiting to bless me as deeply as a
Buddhist monk...and he would be the first one to remind me of that.
We'll see what next month brings.
Love, Christine |
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And
a blurb from Chris:
We came home from our tour up north to
find the garden and yard decimated from the heat and drought here in
Austin. A couple plants proved hardy enough to survive...not
surprisingly the Habanero Pepper plant was hanging in there, as well
as sage and lemon basil in the shade garden. Every lawn in our
neighborhood is as brown as a a paper sack.
Which was odd, just having returned from my home town
where the water is just gushing from the emergency spillways at the
Oahe Dam, which in turn floods the low lying areas of Pierre, South
Dakota, including my mom's former apartment along the Missouri
River. Her friend and neighbor Judy got us past the stern
looking border patrol guy down to the homes along the water.
Mom's beautiful patio along the Missouri has become a mud pit
bordered on the north by a 6 foot wall of sandbags (right outside
the sliding door) and a 10 foot earthen levee that has managed to
keep almost all the flood waters at bay.
We heard
untold stories of community involvement, good Samaritans and out and
out local heroism. Good work, South Dakota. I wish we
could pipeline some of that raging river water down here to the dry
lands.
How high's the water Mama? Five feet high and
rising.
See you at the gig.
Chris |
