All things being equal

Equinox, a moment of balance. It came and went this morning at 9:03 a.m., while I was doing my morning study and meditating on personal liberty. Apropos.

The spirit of balance lingered today. I celebrated the even divide between dark and light by driving south with family for our annual grape-picking excursion at the home of some friends. Delicious green Himrods, those Utah beauties—oh! Soon my kitchen will be filled with the aroma of steaming grapes, and then we'll have the first provident bottles of 2011 ready to line the shelves of our pantry. I love the harvest season. And it's especially nice to begin refilling the coffers on a day of celestial balance.

On the drive down to Salem, I sat in the middle row of seats in my sister-in-law's van, next to my darling nephew, 3yo Finn. He announced to me happily, out of the blue, "Ga-ga, I KNOW you're gonna have a baby!" It seemed like all the grownups in the vehicle stopped breathing for a couple seconds, but maybe that was just me. I'm pretty sure this wasn't something Finn had heard from his parents, but I could be wrong about that too. Wherever it came from, I just laughed and accepted it. Why not? Who would know better than Finn? And who am I to doubt such an intelligent fellow? He made his powerful assertion again a little later: "Ga-ga, I KNOW you're gonna have a baby!" And then went on to describe to me how much he loves babies and likes to hold them, and I decided I would be very glad for him to hold mine once I have her... or find her... or him... or them... or... however this thing's going to happen. But I have it on good authority now; I'm gonna get one. Finn says.

Last year when we went grape-picking I was the beneficiary of another magical sentence, shared with me in a whisper while little arms were wrapped around my neck, a secret from my niece, Scout. Since it was a secret I won't share it, but it was a lovely shaft of light that came in through my ear and went straight into my heart to burn there all these months. I appreciate the tiny shiny voices of these people I love so much. I treasure their gifts and don't minimize them the least bit.

After today I'll be in my last week of my month-long garden detox diet. I took a Mason jar full of green smoothie with me grape-picking: it was lunch, if you use your imagination. There was enough that I gave everybody who was brave enough to try it a taste. Finn wanted a drink of it, so I helped him tip up the heavy jar and when it came down, he was wearing a Kermit green moustache. Ha! After his second swig, his moustache had grown into a perfect half-circle of swamp nog, plus a bright green unibrow from pressing the messy jar against his face. Pretty hilarious. I grabbed my camera but before I could shoot he'd sleeved his cheeks and was focused on the next part of lunch. (That green unibrow dried in place though, I'm tickled to report.) Scout saw me trying for a Kodak moment, so she obliged by taking her own big drink of my stuff and modeling the latest in lip fashion:

"Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication." —Leonardo da Vinci

Big with Mercy

Spent some time offering service and meditating in the temple today and came home with a headful of quiet ideas, enough to keep me busy working and adjusting and reflecting for a while. Part of me wants to list out what I can here, but the other part says to wait a while, keep processing.

A song has run through my head since the temple time. The particular shape of a beautiful chandelier, of all things, is what turned on the music in my head. Funny how that can work.

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Some Profundity

DO is a DOUBT that's stopped resting on its BUT.

So there's the day's inspiration, inelegant as it is. I'm thankful for it and needed it.

I gathered up a few of my favorite DOUBTs today and after kicking their BUTs out from under them, turned them into a healthy little to-DO list, and made some happy baby steps away from wrong-headed thinking. This seems a good sort of habit to cultivate, the kind that leads to better sleep at night.

That's it. Just wanted to share my new mantra with you. Sweet dreams.

Skin and Bones

Strange. I've been working outside, spring cleaning our clutter-challenged back patio. Wearing my big leather gloves. Hauling, sweeping, scrubbing, hefting, burning off an afternoon funk. That worked pretty well; I'm feeling better. The strange part happened when I came in just now for a drink of water and to write myself a note about things to pick up from Home Depot (hose reel, gas can). I slipped out of my work gloves and in the kitchen sink lathered up with dishsoap. My hands felt shockingly tiny, the merest most delicate bones. So insubstantial, fragile. I don't recall having that sort of feeling before. I felt as if I were washing a child's hands. Even now, as I sit here, typing, I stop and rub my hands and they seem so very small. They look fine. It's only how they feel. I'm trying to take it in. I'm sure I'm about to wax philosophical. But these hands have other work this evening besides blogging, so I guess I'll keep these ruminations to myself.

Life can be so utterly likable sometimes

Beauties of the day—

• Soon after I crawled out of bed feeling unwell, I turned on the radio just in time to hear the single most nightmarishly wonderful glitch ever uttered by a young female announcer. The fact that she misread breaking news about the world's largest living organism on KBYU-FM, of all stations, only added to my hilarity. I laughed myself simultaneously sick and well and felt much better for the ab work. Poor girl. She managed to mostly keep her composure long enough to finish her report, but I could tell she was about to choke. I imagine when she was finally off the air she probably burst out laughing and then threw up. 
• Today was Day 1 for me of my 21-Day Meditation Challenge from the Chopra Center. It was a good 12 minutes. Care to join me? (Thanks for telling me about this challenge, Robin.) 
• I enjoyed a brief but fun Facebook exchange with one of my favorite people on this planet. (Do you know who you are? I do, at least.)
• I wrote a four-page stream-of-consciousness letter in one sitting. With my bright orange Aurora fountain pen.
• Lovely, funny, generous Charla came to visit on Leland's Flying Pigeon and brought us a great big bag of freshly-harvested salad greens. 
• It was finally chilly enough tonight to wear my best old sweater when I went out for a walk with Rob (which deserves a bullet point all its own, really).
• We picked perfectly crisp sweet apples from a neglected neighborhood tree and brought home enough for apple crisp tomorrow (if we can stop eating them tonight).
• Rob ordered The Book of Imaginary Beings and it arrived today. I can't wait to read it!
• Oh, and I nearly forgot—I discovered this beautiful quote:"If you hear a voice within you saying, You are not a painter, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced." —Vincent Van Gogh