Judging or Not Judging

The wine shop next door to the theatre
Suggests luxury, affluence, good taste,
People who know exactly what they want.

Right now, I only want comfort.

I upset her, and my need for a ride made her late.
I assumed it would work.
She helped me choose and hang a new curtain in my office.
I was grateful.
I hoped her annoyance might be followed with "no big deal."
But I left her car still feeling voiceless, guilty.

I'd felt judgment recently about a housemate.
She wasn't willing to budge in what seemed to me
A minor concession of convenience to kindness. I was angry.
Am I making demands, internally if not externally?
Am I playing holier than thou?
Would I act differently in their shoes? Could I be kinder?

I want to be compassionate, and I was today, at length,
With a friend who'd lost money on a real estate investment. (I've been there!)
Another friend treated me to lunch, and we talked easily
About books, exercise, friendship.
If it's such satisfaction for me to know I can always be myself with him,
What would it take to offer that same assurance, even guarantee,
To anyone, that who they are, how they are, does not need my approval.

My teen granddaughter could ignore me, and I would feel okay.
My accountability partner could point out an assumption I'd made,
And I'd matter of factly acknowledge her observation.
I could even let my lack of organization be no big deal,
My unread pile of old Wall Street Journals a part of my decorating,
My haphazardly stuffed refrigerator, a creative expression.

Here at the theatre, my last activity of this day,
These words I write comfort me.
They give me the satisfaction a child has in building a sand castle,
Not caring at all that it will soon lose its shape.
"Look, friends, see what I made.". . . "I can make another one!"

Sunday Musings

The snow on the mountains
Blankets me with comfort and wonder.
I imagine myself camping, snowshoeing there.

Here I feel the sun, walk past other sun-lovers
On their way to the bus or the grocery store.
At QFC, I pick up produce, fish and frozen vegies on sale
And enjoy samples of pasta salad, cheese and apple.

Now I'm on the bus to an estate sale for our Unitarian congregation.
I drop off books there too for a later book sale.
My next decision: a nap, a stop in the park, or reading.
(You notice I didn't include cleaning my bedroom or office.
These clear pleasant days cloud my choices.)

Waiting for my last bus ride today, I'm aware that my
"Don't-want-to-miss-anything" head space
Made heavy bags with all the bargains I couldn't resist.
I love seeing the minus sign beside all the savings. $28 spent, and $28 saved!

At home, I started a new habit: marked what I'd bought in my red notebook.
When I listed my fridge contents, I found a jar of bacon bits
And a mandarin orange meat marinade I'd forgotten about. Yum!
Oh, I must remember to bring the notebook with me when I shop.
I don't need 13 oranges, 9 yogurts and 4 limes.

After my foray into fridge contents, I took the day off.
I watched God's Little Acre, part of America's Funniest videos,
A bit of The Nutty Professor, and the Young at Heart singers.
Then at the computer, I heard a 1-hour program on following your dream
As I snacked on grapes, carrots and hummous dip, and broccoli soup.

I gave feedback to a friend about his personals ad and the replies he'd sent.
And now, daylight savings and all, it is bedtime. And I am happy.

Weekend Dances

I’m sure I felt as delighted as kids in a swimming pool on a hot day.
I was dancing – waltz, swing, fox trot,
including some hops and stomps and wiggles the instructor showed us.
Here on the dance floor, the flirting eyes and hips in motion are welcome—
for the dancers and the people watching.
No promises are made, only glances that might translate to
“You’re fun!” or “I like this!” or even “Yippee!”
Here we’re all on the same footing—all people who came to dance.

The instructor says each of us must ask three people we don’t know to dance—
Words that probably make it easier for the shy to try that out.
I already ask the men-- I want to dance when I like the music
I haven’t felt this young and playful in many weeks.
I was grinning and teasing with my eyes, and it was reciprocated.
Both Friday and Saturday I went to the dance with a different woman
who’d felt some reluctance, but enjoyed herself there.
Guess what! I’m on email lists for several dances.
Now I’m imagining falling for a good dancer. Live it up, my heart!

My Attention

Toast and jam and chai tea,
Gray sky, books and clothes strewn,
Doctor appointment today after gym.
Tax appointment Friday -- much to get ready.

Just finished Rapt, about what we give attention to.
I look around my bedroom and notice, draw back from
All the books I want to read, the Wall Street Journals.
I chide myself for my seeming inability right now
To corral my thoughts, to turn most of them out to pasture.

I'm a bit "wounded" by Bill's "We can be friends, but no more"
After our one-half hour meeting in a coffee shop.
(Did I ask too many questions to "qualify" him, as he put it?)

I'm insatiably curious, so I WANT to hear a new person's
Experiences, values, beliefs, delights.

Ah, another man answered my ad. I wonder where this will lead.

A Day Away from Home 3-8-2010

Two bites left of my sesame ball as I board the bus for West Seattle.
The Doctor was reassuring and my low mood has lifted,
Thanks to exploring a Vietnamese grocery and buying $12.76 of tofu, noodles and treats.
The $2. Vietnamese sandwich was certainly a part of my current contentment.
Seventy-five cents is a cheap price to pay for another trip another day to try out
Other staples or sweets in the International District.

My inner calculator said I'd reach the library before my bus transfer expired.
There I finish writing notes from Gallagher's book, Rapt, about attention and focus.
I walk the nine blocks home, paying attention to spring blossoms and the breeze.

I exchanged phone numbers with an earlier seatmate on the bus, who bakes his own bread
and invests in commodities. I stop for a sample at Great Harvest Bread Company.
I come home and feel like I've been out of the country for the day. Lucky me!

On Hearing New Seattle Brass Ensemble

I come inside at Camp Long’s Art and Nature Festival.
The music puts me in a deep dark jungle
Where harp, tuba, cello, trumpets and drums
March to, are musically set alive, by and with the singer.

I am made love to, wildly,
Oh, with such full presence, such aliveness,
I could come to the sounds as well as the imagined touch.

The musicians and the soloist are meditating
As surely as if they were in a temple.
I’m drawn into the worship that is reverberating with ecstatic sound.

The cellist’s eyes pull at my heart; oh, I can’t hold myself back!
The harpist’s smile can barely keep from erupting into pure rapture.
The drummer’s face is contorted with perfect, perfect pleasure.

The singer, still making love with each of us, holds nothing back.
How I want this passion, this depth, to go on and on!

I leave. You’re finished, but I’m holding on.
You got inside me.
How I’d like to keep you there.