WHAT MATTERS?

I have always been interested in world religions, what they teach and what I may find to be essential, common tenets across the spectrum. Of course, everyone must find his/her own way in faith and matters of spirituality (or not). I am not a Buddhist, or a scholar in world religions and am not evangelizing for Buddhism here. However, I wanted to share what I have found of value in its Noble Eightfold Path, which can foster a more conscious way of living, and may even support other religious faiths, if one so chooses.

    The Eightfold Path was thought to be revealed in the first sermon of the founder of Buddhism, Siddhartha Gautama (563 to 483 B.C), known as the Buddha, who achieved “enlightenment” after meditating for 49 days under a Bodhi tree. Buddha did not claim to be a god, and is not considered a god to his followers. He was a teacher who shared his experience and insights and a way to achieve enlightenment.

    For me, the eight tenets of this path embody ideals to aspire to in order to be more mindful of how we live and how we relate to other human beings. The following is a paraphrased/simplified description of each. *

1. Right Understanding: The realization of the true nature of reality, embodied in the Four Noble Truths: The truth of suffering, the truth of the cause of suffering, the truth of the end of suffering, and the truth of the path that leads to the end of suffering.
2. Right Resolve: Cultivates wholesome and ethical intentions, including renouncing harmful or violent actions, developing goodwill and compassion toward all beings, and non-attachment.
3. Right Speech: Being aware of what, how and why you are apeaking, and to whom. Abstaining from lying, divisive speech, abusive speech, and idle chatter, causing discord or harm through your speech.
4. Right Action (Conduct): Causing no injury, bodily or otherwise harm to others, not taking what is not given, no excessive material desires. It aims to promote peaceful, honorable, and moral conduct.
5. Right Livelihood: Earning a living that is ethical and doesn't harm others or oneself, engaging in compassionate activities to make a living in a way that creates happiness, wisdom, and well-being, while relieving suffering.
6. Right Effort: Guarding the “sense-doors,” restraint of the sense faculties to rid oneself of unwholesome thoughts, words and actions, and, ultimately, to perfect a good and wholesome state of being.
7. Right Mindfulness: Guarding/watching over the mind for thoughts that take over or dominate. The weaker they become, the stronger wholesome states of mind become. Avoid distractions or being absent minded, rather being conscious of what one is thinking, saying and doing.
8. Right Concentration: The centering of consciousness, evenly and rightly on a single object (meditative state).
         * (https://en.winkipedia.org/wiki/Noble_Eightfold_Path#)

    These are questions I had when I first looked into the Eightfold Path:
1. What would it mean to be aware of and follow each one of these tenets, for me and for others? 2. What would it mean for me and for others if we do not follow them? These, and other questions may be pondered from time to time to “check in” if one is being true to these ideals. So that all this isn’t too abstract, I share an example of checking in for Right Speech, which to me implies written communication as well.

• What is the purpose of my speaking?
• Is it necessary or helpful that I say/write it?
• Will its purpose be understood?
• Am I too impulsive in what, how and why I am communicating?
• How can I speak in the most essential, concise and clear way and not just for small talk, gossip, digressing, or rambling?
• Do I need to say everything I am thinking? (usually not)
• Is there an element in my communication of “one-upmanship,”or a subtle unhelpful, sarcastic tone?
• Am I speaking just to prove I am right about something, rather than speaking objectively with facts and logic, and/or noting that it is subjective (my experience and opinion only).

        These questions may seem excessive or obsessive; however, for one following Buddhism, they are no different from other ways people attempt to adhere to their faiths. I have been drawn to the Eightfold Path, see its value, but, no doubt, fall short and “forget to remember” to regularly check in, but there is always “try and try again!”

        Buddhists may have much to say about my calling the Eightfold Path “ideals” or cherry-picking this aspect of Buddhism, as there is a much greater understanding to be grasped and followed if one were to consider oneself a Buddhist, though the Eightfold Path is central to any of its branches, and is common sense for every day life, or a lifetime, no matter if one has a spiritual path or not. 

To me, it is what matters.

Handpainted Tongka by Tibetan refugee

SWING OF THE SEA: a work in progress

                                            I

                                SWING OF THE SEA

I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,/Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;/Soon far from the rose and the lily, and fret of the flames would we be,/Were we only white birds, my   beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea! ("White Birds" -W.B. Yeats)

A heart broken may open with empathy for others and for oneself. Or, under the weight of pain, a heart may close until it does not feel pain—or pleasure. Hope recedes in the humbled heart, abiding—in the dark, eclipsing the heart’s deepest longing. And yet, a gift of grace (who knows how or from where?) in quiet advent comes to illuminate what is, rather than what is wished for.

                                             ****

       Celia lies restless in the dead of night, her husband warm next to her, but she is cold to the bone, and the house quiet as a grave. She tells herself, “Count your blessings. Things could be worse, so count them and be grateful. Oh, if only they could. She cannot remember how it feels to feel good with a hopeful heart. In her despair, she wishes to disappear, or alternatively to flee to a place where “few lilies blow…out of the swing of the sea.” She once thought a place like that existed—somewhere. Celia conjures up, as she has countless times—that lucid dream on a rainy day long ago in Boston. 

        

        She ducks into a cafe and takes a window table with a single white lily in a red glass vase. In a moment, she feels an intense warmth overtaking her senses, like a rising tide. She inhales the flower’s perfume, the aroma of espresso, delights in the fanciful arrangement of delicate fruit and cream pastries, hears the sound of falling rain. Across the way she notices a brownstone—a lamp lit at the window. In the rapture of it all, she imagines she will leave the cafe, cross the street to her true home and while away the afternoon gazing through her very own window on the world, raindrops gathering on the glass pane—alone and at peace.

        Just then, a petite woman who looks both young and old is before her blocking the view. “Bon jour, Madam,” Celia hears as a song and marks her enigmatic smile as she places a cafe au lait Celia had intended to order on the table. “Anything else you desire, Madam?”

“No...no, nothing, nothing at all," as the mood evaporates like a fading dream. She picks up the pink paper bill left on the table and thinks, a small amount come due for a castle in the air. So strange is the experience that, after reluctantly leaving the cafe, she wondered if the light across the way went out, and the once-warm cafe is now only a cold, empty store front. 

Remembering the experience brings back the feeling of concentric circles of longing emerging from her center, drawing her toward the peace felt on a drizzly day of daydreams—a misty memory to lie awake with—again on this night.

Is it truly my heart’s desire to dwell in a timeless room, in a Brighton brownstone, in the city of Boston, in the state of Massachusetts, on the North American continent, on planet Earth, in the Milky Way—one of billions of galaxies in an infinite universe?  Have I lost all hope or just struggling with letting go of a false hope? They say, "The truth will set you free.”

        She turns over, fluffs her pillow and pulls the covers up to her chin, as she drifts off into the few hours left before dawn, imagining angels circling above. She doesn’t believe in angels. She doesn't believe she is one of the lucky ones who can.

                                                  ****

How does one let go of a dream, an illusion, the pain of loss or betrayal, at last to grasp that nothing is ours to let go of? A letting go would seem to bring release, but bittersweet—the “comfort” of truth gradually awakening consciousness, its waves crashing over the heart. 

    Consciousness is thus: We do not know what we do not know—until we do. Then, the truth may set us free to see the reality--but also to endure it.

ON THIS MORNING

Painting by Robert Louis Williams, Jr.

On this morning 

awakened to

salt sea air

crow’s call

gull’s cry

trees’ breezy dance

A balm of soul calm

In sense symphony

Of sea, sky and meadow

Amidst human chaos—

On this morning

TWILIGHT

Twilight

Sounds of thoughts

Images like holographs

Memories flourish

Faces, feelings

Fade into longing

Regretting, forgetting

Go to the window

Look to the heavens 

Sun, moon, fixed stars

Rise and set, wax and wane

And you—here

Only a moment in millennia

Go to your door

Step over the threshold

Hear leaves rustling in the wind

See birds on the wing

Still—longing to stay 

But it is twilight. 

MOTHERS OF INVENTION

"Necessity is the mother of invention,” is a familiar proverb suggesting that when there is a diving force (a necessity), a new, creative way (invention) can be found to meet the need. This is undoubtedly true. As Mother’s Day is upon us, we can turn this idea around a bit thinking of Mothers as both driving force and innovator, in caring for her family and responding to needs of all kinds.

    We celebrate Mother’s Day on Sunday, May 12th, when Mothers may receive flowers or a present, be served breakfast in bed or be taken out to dinner. In whatever way, whether a new young mother, grandmother, great grandmother, or a mother who is no longer with us, let us honor them for all that they do, will do, and have done for us. Mostly, let’s acknowledge that Mothers are also their own individual selves apart from the driving force and innovator in our lives. Yet, we are most likely to think of Mothers as problem solvers, and caretakers responding to our needs.

Older sister, Carol, Sandra and Mother, Christina (1951)

 

    Mothers may also respond to help neighbors or friends, and to their responsibilities at a job or profession. They may contribute to the needs of the wider community and, thereby, the world. Mothers are frequently the ones holding the social, cultural, domestic and practical reins—and with only two hands! a Mother has a loving soul, an open heart, is a foundation builder, a memory maker, a daughter, maybe a wife/partner, a sibling, teacher, friend. At times she is a sage sharing wisdom garnered from a lifetime.

    Mothers are worthy examples, often showing rather than just telling children how to be—from little ones to worthy adults themselves. Raising children involves clear thinking, logic, imagination, planning, organization, patience, fairness, kindness, compassion, practicality, nurturing, creativity, consistency, gentleness, being loving yet firm—being there to listen and respond to whatever the need at any given time. Oh, and a sense of humor goes a long way. All of these are ideal qualities and, of course, apply to fathers as well, and to others who care for and work with children.

Sandra with sons, Seth (left) and Rob (1983)

        Too often, however, Mothers put aside their own needs and wishes for the needs of family and others. This writer can attest to being in that mode at times. Therefore, a most important must see for children is Mother taking time for something separate from her family and home—with enthusiasm/passion, even if just for a bit of solitude—whatever form it may take for Mother time.

        Okay, so being realistic, we must agree that it is impossible to be all of those things, all of the time, what with managing younger children’s temper tantrums, illnesses, activities, endless reminders to brush teeth; share toys; and, later on, navigating the teen years; monitoring school work; seeing to those untidy rooms; driving here and there to deliver and pick up, and much later on, stepping in to help and support adult children and grandchildren when necessity arises, doing the best she can in any situation, and somehow always being there if needed! Even if not at 100% all the time (who is?), Mothers hold the big picture, keeping it all together with Mother strength, Mother hope, Mother determination, Mother creativity, and always—Mother Love.

Let us honor all Mothers on May 12th, and each day be grateful for our Mothers of Invention, our Mother Memories, and for giving and receiving Mother LOVE.

Happy   Mothers’s  Day!

                

WHEN - May 1, 53rd Anniversary poem

                       

Sandra & Robert May 1, 1971

One day

when Earth stops turning

stars fall from the sky

oceans dry 

sun not rise

I won’t ask why

Stay with me—remembering

the path we took

and read with me—

the chapters of our book

SURRENDER

I heard a wise man say,

 “I gaze until I see the beautiful.”

And so, I gazed.

Across the meadow,

where I have looked a thousand times

to trees at the horizon gleaming golden

under blue heaven at sunset.

Each time

 in only moments

 brilliant trees fade to brown

and sky to grey.

They don't mind. 

Each time,

I turn away

Today, I gazed until—

I saw the beautiful 

  Imagining their joining me in praise--

not for a parting of the sea

or water become wine,

but the miracle of light 

the grace of surrender

Painting by Robert Louis Williams 

www.robertlouiswilliams.com

MY FAVORITE THINGS

Revised: Originally written for the 2021 Call to Artists for a Studio B's exhibit, Boyertown, PA

My FavoritesThings 

Beauty, Goodness and Truth are not just a “few" of my favorite things, but very precious things for everyone. I strive to understand and reflect them in my life--falling far short most times, no doubt. Although they are not just “things,” rather they are qualities, or states of being; nevertheless, they are manifested outwardly and inwardly, in ourselves, in others and in the seen and unseen worlds. They are recognizable in people, places and life situations. The words of a song from The Sound of Music only begin to suggest the effects of my favorite things, “When I'm feeling sad / I simply remember my favorite things / And then I don't feel so bad.” There is so much more than remembering and feeling better. Beauty, Goodness and Truth each has the capacity to convey various levels of meaning day to day, and throughout a lifetime.That this trinity exists affirms life and inspires us as touchstones and guides.

Beauty 

        In William Wordsworth’s poem, “Lines Written Above Tintern Abbey,” he returns after five years to the banks of the River Wye in Wales. Seeing  the abbey again, and the surrounding landscape, he realizes that, “These beauteous forms, / Through a long absence, have not been to me / As is a landscape to a blind man's eye.” He tells us the scene living in him all those years, was, “Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; / And passing even into my purer mind.” I, believe, as did Wordsworth, that Beauty has, “no slight or trivial influence / On that best portion of a good man's life / His little, nameless, unremembered, acts / Of kindness and of love.” When Beauty, seen or recollected, “the heavy and the weary weight/ Of all this unintelligible world/Is lightened.” Young poet, A.E. Housman was also affected by Beauty in "The Loveliest of Trees.” He estimates he has "threescore years and ten" to live life (70 years), and realizes that “Twenty will not come again /And since to look at things in bloom / fifty springs are little room/About the woodlands I will go/To see the cherry hung with snow.” Wordsworth and Housman tell us how beauty affects them.  Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote, “Beauty will save the world.”

Does beauty have such power? Yes!

As newlyweds, over 50 years ago now, my husband and I spent a year in Florence, Italy. I treasure golden memories of being young, a life ahead, and beauty all around in a city that, to me, was like a work of art in itself: the architecture, galleries, cathedrals, sunlight falling on red tile roofs and ancient stone, gardens and fountains, tall cedars on azure hills of orchards and vineyards, and the church bells resounding. All are "living" memories.

That which is beautiful we love, and in loving, we respect and protect. Whether Beauty in the moment or recollected brings peace and can lighten the heavy and weary weight of the world. A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: / Its loveliness increases; It will never / Pass into nothingness; . . (Keats)

Goodness 

Under the umbrella of Goodness are many other qualities to consider: morality and ethics, honesty, civility, patience, kindness, compassion, integrity, those actions and deeds for the common good. Goodness comes in many forms: Simple—paying it forward to the person behind you, when the person ahead of you at Starbucks has paid for your coffee. Profound, as the story goes that one of Mahatma Gandhi’s Hindu followers was distraught when his son was killed in a skirmish between Hindu and Muslim mobs: Gandhi advised, ”Go and find an orphan child born of Muslim parents, adopt him as your own son, and bring him to worship Allah with the ideal of non-violence.” A saintly lesson in Goodness!

We do not always see Goodness, or are able to adhere to it when we most need to. It is often compromised, intentionally or unintentionally perverted in personal aggrandizement, conspiracies and other professional, political, cultural and even religious distortions. It can be, and often is, difficult to live up to its demands, yet examples are all around, if we but observe with clear eyes, heart and mind. We can also contribute to Goodness in our lives and in the world in significant ways, large and small, for the benefit of another, or for the common good, which fosters hope for and faith in humanity and the future.

Truth 

Truth is relative it is said, which mostly refers to “our own truth,” specific to us as individuals, having formed opinions and beliefs, based on perceptions, experiences and the information we have (or do not have) at the time. It is often  hard to say what is true, and who has absolute truth. Only such truth that is irrefutable can be absolute—such as in science and mathematics, i.e., the earth is round and 2 + 2 = 4, though some dispute the former, (maybe even the latter!). My understanding of the probability of living truthfully (again, myself falling far short) has to rest in a commitment (and re-commitment) to striving to seek truth by observing closely, listening with an open mind and heart, knowing how to think critically and employing it, then speaking honestly, acting cautiously, and as kindly as possible in all of our relationships and interactions, which helps create respect for and trust in one another and life in general.

Then there are truths, involving the transcendent, “significant if unverifiable truths, discernible in spiritual teachings, psychological principles, philosophy, myths; music; literature and art, as well as in nature and the inscrutable universe. All have the capacity to inspire, motivate, enrich and sustain us beyond measure.

Beauty * Truth * Goodness

Often Beauty, Goodness and Truth are interwoven in the meaning and mystery of them. My three favorite things are often separately indistinguishable, as are the threads in a rich tapestry design, yet, each with the power to pass into our purer mind, lightening the burden of this world and,, perhaps rendering it more intelligible.

PROUD OF MY HERITAGE

Note: Each year, Studio B art gallery in Boyertown, PA puts on a theme-based exhibit, and publishes an anthology of art and writing with that theme in mind. This writing was a submission for this year's online anthology: "I Am - Proud to B--You and Me."

When I attended Catholic school, I learned about “the seven deadly sins,” one of which was pride. “Pride” in that context meant a grand, arrogant sense of self, and entitlement to treat others in controlling and harmful, maybe even "deadly" ways! Aside from the religious connotations of pride, there also seems to be a stigma associated with being proud of and/or demonstrating pride in who we are, what we do or have accomplished—maybe out of caution to be as modest and humble as we “should” be. However, expressing pride in the good of our lives, letting our little (or large) light shine can be a positive experience, both in the sharing, and hearing from others. Such stories can motivate us to do even better and imagine what is possible.

While there is still criticism of those who have come a long way with enormous obstacles and challenges to be able to say they are proud of who they are or have become, there was a shift in the late 60s/early 70s--a social revolution really. For the first time, various groups organized and came forward--encouraged to embrace pride and to express it--even to celebrate their individuality, race, gender and/or ethnicity and to work toward civil/human rights and equality. In doing so, they challenged how they were perceived, portrayed and/or discriminated against. “Black is beautiful” was an affirmative slogan; women spoke of breaking through the “glass ceiling,” and not being seen as sex objects; Native Americans made known the many problems confronting reservation tribes; gay and lesbian folks were coming out of “hiding,” rejecting the criminalization, discrimination and/or shaming of their gender and/or sexual orientation. 

        When Studio B, a local cultural center called for writing  expesseing what we are proud of, I could not wait to learn what others take pride in. I had never really thought to speak or write about what I am proud of, though I have often felt pleased about many areas of my life. Right off, I thought of pride in family accoplishments: My husband Robert’s having been a combat artist in Vietnam, and the body of soulful and masterful work he has created since. I felt pride that I was able to earn a BA and MA while working and raising a family. I am proud of our two sons’ natural abilities and acquired skills, now working in professions they love, and in which they are able to support themselves and their families. I am proud of our four grandchildren for their creativity and kindness--all growing up and, no doubt, will have much to contribute to the world.

        I am proud of my country’s laws and institutions that, while they may need monitoring and improvement always, are still working to identify and bring to justice those who would dismantle what has been built and fought for. I am proud of my community’s many initiatives working for the common good—focusing on our similarities, rather than our differences, providing informative, creative, cultural, educational activities and events, such as Studio B has.

After much thought to what I was most proud of, I can say: I am most proud of my heritage. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents emigrated to America from Italy in the late 1800s, leaving everything behind—never to return to home and homeland, family, friends, neighbors, and cultural roots. They had not mujch to bring with them of material value, but what they did bring with them them was courage, fortitude, and faith that they would succeed in their desire and need for a better life. 

        How? by working hard and long, enduring whatever it took to orient themselves in a new world, at first speaking no English and with no highly marketable skills. My paternal grandfather worked as a janitor in a school outside of Philadelphia. My maternal grandfather worked in a shoemaker’s shop. Both grandmothers raised children, kept house, made meals, baked bread, planted and maintained gardens, put up the harvest for the winter and much more. They had no luxuries, no sick days, no vacations, no “time off.” Their homes were heated only by fireplaces or pot belly stoves, but they were cozy, and we were welcomed with open arms. They, as most Immigrants (even now if possible) became part of an existing ethnic community which supported their transition in many ways.

I am proud that I come from such heritage (as many of us do)—from adventurous souls with the necessary bravery and determination (and probably lots of fear and anxiety) to work toward a better future. They became American citizens, taking the opportunities available to them. And they did make the best of life, little by little. No matter the challenges, obstacles and setbacks, they carried on. In doing so, they helped make America become a more perfect union, built by the “tired, poor, and huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” They were welcomed under the “lifted lamp” of the Statue of Liberty “beside the golden door!”

    America was the “golden door,” hopefully, not yet too tarnished to remember the huddled masses—those who, given the opportunity in dire circumstances, demonstrate extraordinary strength and perseverance. My immigrant ancestors (and many of yours) were extraordinary. They were grateful, as we are, to endure, sacrifice, and to model and pass on the values of education, a work ethic, faith, hope, kindness, and love. Of course, the greatest of these is love.

Now, in only the third and fourth generations since my grandparents' arrival, their extended families have that better life they had envisioned. I am so very proud to be a descendant of such heroic stock. 

Grazie mille (many thanks) to my grandparents: paternal - Else Arnone and Giuseppe Rotondo, and maternal - Mini and Ricardo Speranza. And to my husband Robert’s grandparents: paternal - Maria de Martino and Antonio DiGugliermo, and maternal from Poland - Wielkie dzięki! (many thanks) - Stephania Suchodolski and Witold Skowronski.

And a thank you also to Studio B for the opportunity to honor them here, and for many of us to share and to hear about our sources of pride.