January 27, 2011
We just bought some things for the house today and the young woman at the checkout said "enjoy the sun today." Up here a sunny day is not taken for granted. In the winters when the sun comes out people take "sun breaks." A couple of days ago the sun was out and we ran into an old friend of Catherine's who warned me not to think this was anything but unusual weather. Well the sun has been out some for the past few days and today I'm going out with a hat on my head and enjoy a sun break.
drive
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Bonds of Affection
I just sat down after getting the hens back into their hen house. It's an interesting way that they head back at dusk. They start scurrying towards it, then pause, scratch and peck about for a while before they get to the coop. Then they hang about the outside of the coop pecking around and one or two head in. The ones in the house start chattering and the others outside listen and slowly in fits and starts work their way in. Catherine tells me that they are not pets. She's probably right, but I find them endlessly fascinating and do think of them as pets.
Anyway the hens are in their house now and I am writing.
Being up here and away from all the people and social connections I have been a part of for over twenty years has got me thinking about those connections and what they are like when the "flesh and blood" of them are far away. Last December I gave a Friday talk at the zen center around the theme I called "bonds of affection." Perhaps this is a good time to revisit that theme.
A few days before I gave that talk I had a pretty good idea what I would talk about: my upcoming move to Oregon, what it felt like preparing to move, and the feelings about the people I have grown close to over the years. That all changed by the time I gave the talk. Rebecca's death and her cremation ceremony shifted things in a very fundamental way. The whole range of connections and attachments I felt were interwoven in a new way. When I sat up in my seat to give the talk the word "affection" came up and it is that word that opened up the theme that developed.
Then it was Rebecca having left and my remaining. In a way now I am looking at it from the other side: I've left and you remain. I was part of the group that lost a member and I was feeling the richness of being a part of that group, in the midst of the group, through the experience of the loss. Even as I feel that the bonds of affection are still there I am aware that there has been a change. I've left a home where I have done a lot of maturing. I've become a homeless monk grappling with not knowing what to do and not even knowing what is going on. I feel the urge to figure things out and come up with some new "settled" way with rules that will tell me what to do, but I will try hard not to fall into those brambles. Check where my feet are and step forward.
Two weeks after my talk I was at the SPOT training program and we had a Skype hook-up with Darlene. In silence we each went up to the laptop showing Darlene and bowed. She then bowed back. Now Darlene has left. I find myself living in this tiny speck of space and time in the middle of unknowable coming and going. Svaha!
Anyway the hens are in their house now and I am writing.
Being up here and away from all the people and social connections I have been a part of for over twenty years has got me thinking about those connections and what they are like when the "flesh and blood" of them are far away. Last December I gave a Friday talk at the zen center around the theme I called "bonds of affection." Perhaps this is a good time to revisit that theme.
A few days before I gave that talk I had a pretty good idea what I would talk about: my upcoming move to Oregon, what it felt like preparing to move, and the feelings about the people I have grown close to over the years. That all changed by the time I gave the talk. Rebecca's death and her cremation ceremony shifted things in a very fundamental way. The whole range of connections and attachments I felt were interwoven in a new way. When I sat up in my seat to give the talk the word "affection" came up and it is that word that opened up the theme that developed.
Then it was Rebecca having left and my remaining. In a way now I am looking at it from the other side: I've left and you remain. I was part of the group that lost a member and I was feeling the richness of being a part of that group, in the midst of the group, through the experience of the loss. Even as I feel that the bonds of affection are still there I am aware that there has been a change. I've left a home where I have done a lot of maturing. I've become a homeless monk grappling with not knowing what to do and not even knowing what is going on. I feel the urge to figure things out and come up with some new "settled" way with rules that will tell me what to do, but I will try hard not to fall into those brambles. Check where my feet are and step forward.
Two weeks after my talk I was at the SPOT training program and we had a Skype hook-up with Darlene. In silence we each went up to the laptop showing Darlene and bowed. She then bowed back. Now Darlene has left. I find myself living in this tiny speck of space and time in the middle of unknowable coming and going. Svaha!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Nearing the end
I've changed the picture today. This is the drive up to our house. Some have asked about the previous picture. It is not our house, we call it the Yellow Cottage (it's small, 9x12) and we hope to set it up for people to stay.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
January 19, 2011
It's hard to imagine that we'be only been here for two weeks. Our routines are completely different and our environment is completely different. And we have been so involved each day with setting up our home. And we are only beginning to become a part of this community.
Last week we had drizzly warmish weather. All the snow that managed to stay on the ground melted and we spent most of the time at work: Catherine was at the Clear View Project books and I was trying to sort out my work space and learning where things were.
We've got into our rhythm of sitting, twice a day. We're doing our pm sitting before going to bed. So our day begins with am zazen and ends with our pm zazen.
Last Thursday we headed into town after breakfast to shop for some specific things, which we mostly got. In the process we found two wonderful places: an unfinished furniture store and a bookstore. The bookstore was a book lovers delight: old antique and rare books and the kind of new books Black Oak would carry. I couldn't resist a book of Atget photos and the new Wendell Berry essays and Tony Judt's "Ill Fares the Land." I had planned to buy them from Amazon, but am so happy I spent more to get them from J. Michaels. It's a place I have to spend more time in. Catherine says if I do I should leave my wallet at home.
It was rainy, generally not too hard, mostly drizzly showers. On the way home in the late afternoon I wished I had my camera. The look of the pastures and bare trees with the hills rolling up in the mist was wonderful. Just experience it, don't try to grab on to it.
The scale of things out here is pretty small when compared to the Bay Area. An example that came up Friday: just as we were sitting down to lunch the power went out. I dutifully checked all the breakers, nothing blown. Then with my old touch tone phone I called the power company (Blachly-Lane Electric Co-Op), Cynthia answered the phone and I told her our power went out. She immediately said that they had to turn it off to change a transformer and that it would be back on in 15 minutes. And by golly it was back on in 15 minutes. Try that one with PG&E. I didn't even have to wade through phone menus and being told that my called may be monitored to ensure the quality of service. Maybe Cynthia's boss isn't interested in listening in on her conversations and figures she knows how to do her job.
Then there's the mail. As I said in another post the mailbox is half a mile from our house. So we walk down the hill to check the mail and put things in the box for pick-up (putting up those little red flags). Well, when there's a package that doesn't fit in the mailbox the woman who delivers the mail drives on up and beeps her horn.
Yesterday we checked out the Low Pass Cafe for breakfast, just four miles from us next to the Low Pass Market which makes a Seven Eleven seem like a supermarket. Food was cheap, the coffee ok, and I had enough that I didn't need lunch.
Being at the end of our small lane (a one lane gravel road) we don't see any traffic. When someone does come up it's pretty exciting. Today (Tuesday) a car came up, I went out to see who it was. A woman waved out the window and yelled "Happy New Year from your meter reader." Now that was fun.
Last week we had drizzly warmish weather. All the snow that managed to stay on the ground melted and we spent most of the time at work: Catherine was at the Clear View Project books and I was trying to sort out my work space and learning where things were.
We've got into our rhythm of sitting, twice a day. We're doing our pm sitting before going to bed. So our day begins with am zazen and ends with our pm zazen.
Last Thursday we headed into town after breakfast to shop for some specific things, which we mostly got. In the process we found two wonderful places: an unfinished furniture store and a bookstore. The bookstore was a book lovers delight: old antique and rare books and the kind of new books Black Oak would carry. I couldn't resist a book of Atget photos and the new Wendell Berry essays and Tony Judt's "Ill Fares the Land." I had planned to buy them from Amazon, but am so happy I spent more to get them from J. Michaels. It's a place I have to spend more time in. Catherine says if I do I should leave my wallet at home.
It was rainy, generally not too hard, mostly drizzly showers. On the way home in the late afternoon I wished I had my camera. The look of the pastures and bare trees with the hills rolling up in the mist was wonderful. Just experience it, don't try to grab on to it.
The scale of things out here is pretty small when compared to the Bay Area. An example that came up Friday: just as we were sitting down to lunch the power went out. I dutifully checked all the breakers, nothing blown. Then with my old touch tone phone I called the power company (Blachly-Lane Electric Co-Op), Cynthia answered the phone and I told her our power went out. She immediately said that they had to turn it off to change a transformer and that it would be back on in 15 minutes. And by golly it was back on in 15 minutes. Try that one with PG&E. I didn't even have to wade through phone menus and being told that my called may be monitored to ensure the quality of service. Maybe Cynthia's boss isn't interested in listening in on her conversations and figures she knows how to do her job.
Then there's the mail. As I said in another post the mailbox is half a mile from our house. So we walk down the hill to check the mail and put things in the box for pick-up (putting up those little red flags). Well, when there's a package that doesn't fit in the mailbox the woman who delivers the mail drives on up and beeps her horn.
Yesterday we checked out the Low Pass Cafe for breakfast, just four miles from us next to the Low Pass Market which makes a Seven Eleven seem like a supermarket. Food was cheap, the coffee ok, and I had enough that I didn't need lunch.
Being at the end of our small lane (a one lane gravel road) we don't see any traffic. When someone does come up it's pretty exciting. Today (Tuesday) a car came up, I went out to see who it was. A woman waved out the window and yelled "Happy New Year from your meter reader." Now that was fun.
Monday, January 17, 2011
What is in a name
What is this "end of the road?"
Some people have been critical of the name "End of the Road" for this blog. My initial choice of the name was a simple geographical fact: we live at the end of a road, lane to be more precise. But that was not the only reason.
The end of the road is not just some finality that we all face before ceasing to be or some impasse that gets us stuck in a place. That may be the first thing that comes to some people's minds, but I think of it differently: "I've stopped my wandering about and come to this place. This is where I will set myself and this is a place I will experience in its fullness." I can't do that if I keep going down the road. The end of the road is a true beginning. In Buddhism we experience the opening up of all possibilities when the mind stops its wandering from one thing to another and we are finally able to see what is right in front of us.
So only when I come to the end of the road and stop can I move about and discover what is around me.
Some people have been critical of the name "End of the Road" for this blog. My initial choice of the name was a simple geographical fact: we live at the end of a road, lane to be more precise. But that was not the only reason.
The end of the road is not just some finality that we all face before ceasing to be or some impasse that gets us stuck in a place. That may be the first thing that comes to some people's minds, but I think of it differently: "I've stopped my wandering about and come to this place. This is where I will set myself and this is a place I will experience in its fullness." I can't do that if I keep going down the road. The end of the road is a true beginning. In Buddhism we experience the opening up of all possibilities when the mind stops its wandering from one thing to another and we are finally able to see what is right in front of us.
So only when I come to the end of the road and stop can I move about and discover what is around me.
Friday, January 14, 2011
January 11, 2011
Sunday afternoon around 4:30, the sun has dropped below the trees and I'll bet that the hens will be heading back to their house pretty soon and kitty is curled up in her bed on the porch, the picture of domestic tranquility.
We're much more settled now and most things are out of boxes, but not set where they'll end up. At least we can find most things. The kitchen is pretty well set up. We're keeping cooking very simple until we get some running water. Vegetable soup from the freezer will be tonight's main course along with bread and cheese. Our sitting area is set up, so am zazen tomorrow.
Monday: it felt good to getting back into a day starting with zazen.
It's about 11 am Tuesday. Very overcast with a chance of snow turning to rain, right now it's 29 so the chance of snow seems to be receding.
Yesterday we got our new pump and pressure tank installed, so we are basking in the luxury of hot and cold running water. No more trips to the pond with 5 gallon buckets. The feel of a warm shower is greatly appreciated and not taken for granted, although I'm sure that as time rolls on I will fall back into taking it for granted. Right now I am appreciating all these little luxuries I have and that most people in this world do not have.
We had our first house guest yesterday. Richard Haefele got here in the afternoon: a good dinner, good coversation, just plain good company. After morning coffee we did morning zazen. He's on his way now to the Portland area. He and Joan may stop by on their way back to the Bay Area.
I'm experiencing an interesting feeling about getting settled here. It's not so much getting boxes unpacked, but it's more about dealing with the well pump and the people who got the water flowing again. We even had a bit of drama about when the pump would get replaced as Bill's (he's the well man) daughter was about ready to give birth to his first grandchild and being there for the birth was his first priority and his assistant was his son-in-law Tanner, the expectant father of the to be born Will. Being part of this small drama and having Richard stay with us made this place feel much more like our home.
I just noticed that it is now snowing. I look out from my desk across the lawn and see a steady and gentle snow falling against the backdrop of the firs in our woods. A couple of hours later it's still snowing, but the temperature has gone up to 33, whether any accumulates it's just nice to watch not thinking of having to go anywhere. Maybe the half mile down the road to the mailbox.
The snow's stopped so now as I look out from my desk I see a robin furiously going at whatever is under some leaf litter. As I'm watching this another bird tried to get through the windows, it looked like a bushtit, but I'm unsure. As I usually see these in groups and there were no others around I'm guessing it's another of the neighbors I'll have to get to know. As he/she goes off I see a varied thrush working on the lawn.
The hens are now outside my window. They seem to be an aimless lot, appearing not to know what to do next. It's very entertaining out here.
We're much more settled now and most things are out of boxes, but not set where they'll end up. At least we can find most things. The kitchen is pretty well set up. We're keeping cooking very simple until we get some running water. Vegetable soup from the freezer will be tonight's main course along with bread and cheese. Our sitting area is set up, so am zazen tomorrow.
Monday: it felt good to getting back into a day starting with zazen.
It's about 11 am Tuesday. Very overcast with a chance of snow turning to rain, right now it's 29 so the chance of snow seems to be receding.
Yesterday we got our new pump and pressure tank installed, so we are basking in the luxury of hot and cold running water. No more trips to the pond with 5 gallon buckets. The feel of a warm shower is greatly appreciated and not taken for granted, although I'm sure that as time rolls on I will fall back into taking it for granted. Right now I am appreciating all these little luxuries I have and that most people in this world do not have.
We had our first house guest yesterday. Richard Haefele got here in the afternoon: a good dinner, good coversation, just plain good company. After morning coffee we did morning zazen. He's on his way now to the Portland area. He and Joan may stop by on their way back to the Bay Area.
I'm experiencing an interesting feeling about getting settled here. It's not so much getting boxes unpacked, but it's more about dealing with the well pump and the people who got the water flowing again. We even had a bit of drama about when the pump would get replaced as Bill's (he's the well man) daughter was about ready to give birth to his first grandchild and being there for the birth was his first priority and his assistant was his son-in-law Tanner, the expectant father of the to be born Will. Being part of this small drama and having Richard stay with us made this place feel much more like our home.
I just noticed that it is now snowing. I look out from my desk across the lawn and see a steady and gentle snow falling against the backdrop of the firs in our woods. A couple of hours later it's still snowing, but the temperature has gone up to 33, whether any accumulates it's just nice to watch not thinking of having to go anywhere. Maybe the half mile down the road to the mailbox.
The snow's stopped so now as I look out from my desk I see a robin furiously going at whatever is under some leaf litter. As I'm watching this another bird tried to get through the windows, it looked like a bushtit, but I'm unsure. As I usually see these in groups and there were no others around I'm guessing it's another of the neighbors I'll have to get to know. As he/she goes off I see a varied thrush working on the lawn.
The hens are now outside my window. They seem to be an aimless lot, appearing not to know what to do next. It's very entertaining out here.
January 9, 2010
Here's the past few days.
Thursday, January 6, it got up to 50 today and was sunny. It was 27 when we got up and after breakfast we went off on a walk around the place. The ground was crunchy and covered with frost. A nice chilly winter's morn with a slanting low light. In a tree at the edge of the woods we saw what appeared to be two rufous sided towhees, but I'm not sure that they should be around here at this time. I'd have loved to have had Dean with us.
We got a lot organized today and I'm pretty tired from toting boxes full of books. We were going to check our mail, but were both too busy and then too tired to make the one mile down and back to our mailbox. Fed Ex and UPS will drive up the road, but the Post Office justs goes along the main road half a mile away. The pace here is such that it doesn't seem to matter whether we check our mail. That different pace and feeling for what's important is beginning to rub off on me. I have to look at my computer to check what day of the week and day of the month it is. I'm also getting used to the much slower internet connection we get with our satellite hook-up. My old cable connection was more of instant gratification, now I just have to wait.
A curious thing after dinner: Catherine is washing the dishes and says "there's not much water coming out." A check in the pump house tells me the pump ain't pumping. Ain't no EBMUD out here, gotta get someone out here tomorrow morning. Country livin'. If you're wondering why she's doing the dishes it's because I did the cooking.
Right now it's Friday afternoon. It's a cozy sort of day, around 42 and cloudy, the kind of day to step back from all the activity of putting a house together (still some ways to go). I'm trying to organize files from boxes and Catherine is upstairs doing the same. The plumber can't make it out this afternoon. He will get here tomorrow morning.
The pump may be taken care of in a day or two. Because of the likelihood of power outages we had quite a bit of water frozen in gallon milk containers in our big freezer, so we're ok for basics. We hauled up a bunch of water in 5 gallon buckets from our little pond and that does fine for flushing the toilets and the hens and the cat. Part of our practice is "don't take anything for granted." Didn't think that would be something to take so concretely!
Catherine's son Miles came be over later with Jasper, so we had a nice afternoon and family dinner. Besides Miles brought us another 7 gallons of water.
I'm now writing this Sunday morning, a quiet day for us after so much working over the past few days. We had a few snow flurries a couple of hours ago, but as the temperature is heading up towards 40 so anything that falls will just melt: arising, abiding, ceasing.
The plumber was out yesterday and found a burned out capacitor. He went out got another and installed it, but, to our dismay, that wasn't the problem. It was more likely an effect of the problem. So we called the well and pump guy. He found all manner of problems: non-functioning pressure tank and a bad pump. Monday he will be here and we will be back with indoor running water either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. This morning he came with his truck to use his winch to get the old pump out. It really makes this all the more an adventure! The only hitch may be his daughter giving birth to his first grandchild, but it didn't happen last night or this morning, so all's going well (ha! ha!).
We're getting our sitting space set up and easing off of no schedule mode, using our alarm and getting back to facing the wall. Also Richard Haefele will be dropping by on Tuesday and we're both looking forward to that.
I think that will be it for today. Pictures will come next week.
Thursday, January 6, it got up to 50 today and was sunny. It was 27 when we got up and after breakfast we went off on a walk around the place. The ground was crunchy and covered with frost. A nice chilly winter's morn with a slanting low light. In a tree at the edge of the woods we saw what appeared to be two rufous sided towhees, but I'm not sure that they should be around here at this time. I'd have loved to have had Dean with us.
We got a lot organized today and I'm pretty tired from toting boxes full of books. We were going to check our mail, but were both too busy and then too tired to make the one mile down and back to our mailbox. Fed Ex and UPS will drive up the road, but the Post Office justs goes along the main road half a mile away. The pace here is such that it doesn't seem to matter whether we check our mail. That different pace and feeling for what's important is beginning to rub off on me. I have to look at my computer to check what day of the week and day of the month it is. I'm also getting used to the much slower internet connection we get with our satellite hook-up. My old cable connection was more of instant gratification, now I just have to wait.
A curious thing after dinner: Catherine is washing the dishes and says "there's not much water coming out." A check in the pump house tells me the pump ain't pumping. Ain't no EBMUD out here, gotta get someone out here tomorrow morning. Country livin'. If you're wondering why she's doing the dishes it's because I did the cooking.
Right now it's Friday afternoon. It's a cozy sort of day, around 42 and cloudy, the kind of day to step back from all the activity of putting a house together (still some ways to go). I'm trying to organize files from boxes and Catherine is upstairs doing the same. The plumber can't make it out this afternoon. He will get here tomorrow morning.
The pump may be taken care of in a day or two. Because of the likelihood of power outages we had quite a bit of water frozen in gallon milk containers in our big freezer, so we're ok for basics. We hauled up a bunch of water in 5 gallon buckets from our little pond and that does fine for flushing the toilets and the hens and the cat. Part of our practice is "don't take anything for granted." Didn't think that would be something to take so concretely!
Catherine's son Miles came be over later with Jasper, so we had a nice afternoon and family dinner. Besides Miles brought us another 7 gallons of water.
I'm now writing this Sunday morning, a quiet day for us after so much working over the past few days. We had a few snow flurries a couple of hours ago, but as the temperature is heading up towards 40 so anything that falls will just melt: arising, abiding, ceasing.
The plumber was out yesterday and found a burned out capacitor. He went out got another and installed it, but, to our dismay, that wasn't the problem. It was more likely an effect of the problem. So we called the well and pump guy. He found all manner of problems: non-functioning pressure tank and a bad pump. Monday he will be here and we will be back with indoor running water either Monday afternoon or Tuesday morning. This morning he came with his truck to use his winch to get the old pump out. It really makes this all the more an adventure! The only hitch may be his daughter giving birth to his first grandchild, but it didn't happen last night or this morning, so all's going well (ha! ha!).
We're getting our sitting space set up and easing off of no schedule mode, using our alarm and getting back to facing the wall. Also Richard Haefele will be dropping by on Tuesday and we're both looking forward to that.
I think that will be it for today. Pictures will come next week.
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