Tag Archives: Metta

breakfast is for the world of the living

i’m packing to move

and in a purse given to me by my grandmother long ago

my dear Yaya

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was a small silk pouch

holding three silver coins

given to me by my grandfather even a longer time ago

my dear Papa

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coins from the same year i was born.

and putting them into my hand

feeling their weight

their weight

weight is for the world of the living

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feeling their weight i thought of the practice of putting coins in the mouth of a person who had died

imagining these three coins in my mouth, perhaps, one day

i couldn’t remember where the practice comes from

or the symbolic gesture of coins in the mouth

sure, i could have paused, Googled the information

but i didn’t

kept packing

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packing is for the world of the living

as is breakfast

steaming, hot oatmeal

which now stands cold

in a bowl

after hearing the news the word

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news & words are for the world of the living

of my dear anchor, my friend, my Elder, my love

passing in the night

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tears & breakfast don’t go well together

if nothing else, i’ve learned this in my time alive here on the planet

and that is something, just to know that.

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full moon pulls in & out

birth & death – labors both

one, we are ushered in, labored in by another.

one, we have to labor ourselves, it seems.

a different sort of birth.

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with a mix of grief & joy with memories

sending blessings

to her family

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to the hearts of her family & friends

and to all worlds

for all beings everywhere.

sending Metta.

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the story of “Smuggled Czech” garlic

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this is a bulb of Smuggled Czech garlic from this years crop.

it’s smaller than what people usually want, but it’s a great keeper.

a Rocambole type with a complex flavor, last years crop kept a full 11 months, and just started to sprout as this years crop came in.

amazing stuff.

here’s the story of Smuggled Czech garlic…

in 2006 i was working at the Saturday farmer’s market, for the farm i was apprenticing at.

working at market every Saturday gives one a feel for people (also the hands come to know what a 1/4 pound is, as well as a 1/2 & a full pound, just by feel…)

i also got to tell what it feels like when people are open to stop and try a sample of this or that, which folks were just looking, which ones were shy, etc…

an elder couple came by the booth one afternoon in late summer/early autumn…  they were talking in low voices with each other, looking at the two types of garlic being sold, picking them up to examine them…

i offered that if they had any questions to let me know…

we got to talking about the two types of garlic, turned out they were avid gardeners – kept a sort of ‘farmden’ of their own… and they grew their own garlic.  wanted to bring in other varieties.

mostly they wanted to know which was the best keeper – Rocambole types keep longer, so i motioned to them that the German Red was the one to try.

they went on to tell me about a variety which kept until well past May in great condition.

“a Czech variety”

came from a friend of theirs – a garlic farmer whose grandmother brought it over from the former Czech Republic sown into her coat.

this farmer friend had shared it with the elder couple, and so they began to grow it out, increasing the crop year by year.

one year, their farmer friend’s entire garlic crop failed.

but because he had shared it with this elder couple, they were able to give some of the Czech variety back to the farmer.

to this day, because he had shared it with this elder couple, he still grows this heirloom variety brought over by his grandmother.

i guess the look on my face said something to the elder couple…  they offered me some if i wanted it

um YEAH!!! – so, along with my address at the farm i gave them both varieties of our garlic to try.

a couple weeks later in the mail, a tiny box with two heads of garlic wrapped in newspaper arrived.

since 2006, from two heads of garlic, we’ve been steadily growing out this amazing variety which keeps so well and has a beautiful sharing story to go along with it.


Metta Kitty Farm – 2011 growing season – murderer, homewrecker, & kidnapper

cleaning

the simple act of cleaning

or even harvesting a potato

can wreak havoc on beings.

a solo spider

whose web i have no idea how long it takes to construct

to create to spin its web its home its food gatherer

& i have no idea

of how time even occurs to any one spider

of all the spiders i see

and i see them

a simple swish of a damp towel

a movement of this arm

and a home, an elegant, complex tool

is gone

obliterated.

and sometimes, too, the spider.

it’s hard to know

(when given the task

accepting the task

of cleaning)

which webs to leave?

which webs to destroy?

i am unaware of any logic to the choice-making.

and then there are the potatoes.

hidden.

among entire communities.

entire worlds, a network, a nursery…

completely disturbed

and exposed with one turn of a digging fork.

the sudden activity

the gathering up of babies

the spilling out of ant bodies

rapid movements

on the what-is-now surface

seen

innumerable creatures

with purpose

and direction

working together

some gathering

some attacking

i stomp my feet & shake my hands

knocking the potato gently

shaking off the ants

so they are left behind

with their people

& not kidnapped

(however unintentionally)

the ones in the bucket

unseen

unknown

soon their fate will be drowning

unless, of course, they can crawl out of the bucket

which is unlikely.

so much destruction

devastation

harm

however unintentionally.

this world seems not set up for very very slow…

i long to move with all the time in the world

as a great giant tortoise would

through a day

perhaps, then,

lives could be saved

communities preserved

and still, the work could get done.