“So, wait, what is the bunny’s name again? She has been Lucky. Luckier. Lucky II.”
“Willett - it is a cross between willow and lettuce. She likes to eat willow and lettuce.”
“Am I spelling that with an “e” on the end to make it feminine or do we care?”
“We don’t care.”
Willett, the bunny born around Easter, has joined the scene and here is what we have learned so far.
Dearest beloveds,
The Ancient Greeks had two words for time: chronos and kairos. “Chronos is the ticking of the clock, the zombie steps of just getting on with life… Kairos means “the right moment.” - the opportune time. It stops the clocks.” (Thank you Jonny Thomson of Mini Philosophy for that succinct summary.)
Our modern culture thrives on chronological time. Constantly checking off commitments in a schedule of doings causes our awareness to skim along the surface of life. I highly recommend cultivating regular moments where you can slow to appreciate the magic of life.* It is only once once you pause, lower your shoulders, unclench your butt, take three breaths that the opportune time becomes apparent. Kairos resides outside of the rush.
Dearest Bean,
I was closing up the kitchen before heading down to brush my teeth and corral you and your brother into bed. Bending over the couch to turn off a light, I hear your voice from the kitchen.
“Mom, what is porno?”
What the FUCK?!
“Where did you learn that word?”
“It is right here - in the table of contents of your book.”
Dearest Dragon,
What a shining day it was! Making a hand drum with Mark Ressl of The Giving Trees in Rosendale has to be possibly one of the most true experiences of my 49 years on this planet. True as in killing chickens, eating a porcupine, giving birth, my God immersion experience, and sitting with Baba’s body after he passed - that level of true.
Really, Mom, you are saying this about a drum making workshop?
Yup, my dearest, I am.
Life comes from death. Which, in turn, makes more life. It is one big circle. It is all the same thing - just different forms.
The life of a drum comes from the death of an animal. Our life comes from the death of vegetables and animals that feed us. One day, in turn, our lives will nourish worms and plants. This is truth.
“Padiddle!”
“Where?”
“The blue truck behind us.”
“Bean, you have padiddle glasses on.”
And she does.
“Why don’t you wear your sister’s pink rain jacket until we get you a new one.”
“Mom! Nooo! I will bring my other too small one to school.”
Sigh. Is this because it is pink? Or because your sister has cooties?
“Okay.”
No reason to delve. He has to figure out this himself. Just be grateful for all of those years you were dressing him in whatever gave you pleasure.
Recently, I participated in the CTTT (Coming to the TABLE) Circle Process Training.* I wrote about volunteering with my children for CTTT Freedom Walk 2026 (happening this Monday in NYC, see you there!)
The Circle Process Training was an online course where CTTT Circle Keepers went over the format and modeled the Circle Process - the format for all CTTT meetings.
According to the facilitators (huge shoutout to Stacy/Gretchen) the Circle Process is, “a deliberate container to encourage emotional vulnerability and trust around a very charged issue.”
A deliberate container to encourage emotional vulnerability and trust around a very charged issue.
I almost want to write that sentence again and again because I am so in awe with the intelligence and maturity of that idea (emotionally, spiritually, somatically, etc).
Could you imagine if our civic spaces created a deliberate container to encourage emotional vulnerability and trust around a very charged issue. The mind boggles - maybe someday. In the meantime, there are regular meetings that ARE doing this good work and have been for 20 years.
Dearest Beloveds,
As you know - everywhere there is an edge from open space to tall trees (forest or fallen trees) on our stewarded space - we have invasive plants.
They are mostly a panoply of Multiflora Rose, Autumn Olive (promoted by the USDA in the 1960s as a windbreak or wildlife habitat - now on the USDA invasives list), Japanese Honeysuckle, Porcelainberry vines (or Wild Grape, the jury is out), and a few Black Locusts in the fields themselves. This is obviously not the complete list of invasive plants on our land (I see you Garlic mustard and mugwort) - but these are the hardy woody perennials.
With the exception of the Wild Grape and Black Locust - all of those verdant happy plants originally were introduced from Asia in the 1800s as erosion control, ornamental hedges, and mitigators for disturbed land (mining etc). One can almost get the sense the entire East Coast was stripped bare of plants with overzealous mining and tree clearing (it was) and these plants came in to save the day.
A part of me admires the Trickster joke from Gaia on that one - Okay, you want to cut down all the trees for money and now there is an erosion issue that needs mitigation? Fine, go ahead - uproot these ones from their home across the globe and see what happens. I can wait 200 years for the joke to land.
My beloved children,
As you know, I grew up in Washington DC. Our nation’s capital, an epicenter of Global North power, and the accompanied jostling endemic to such power. There was a ubiquitous question in the cocktail party circuit. A refrain peeling out from many perfunctory conversations over square cheese bites.
“So, what do you do?”
You are really asking where I can be categorized in the ladder of capitalism. I see you.
A part of me feels foolish using the word samadhi to describe the immersive experience that I experienced stacking wood. Samadhi/Bliss is the considered by some to be the goal of all yoga - the blissful state reached once you have gone through all of the other seven states. Some consider there to be a hierarchy (a path) through from Yamas/Virtues, Niyamas/Internal observations, Asanas/Poses, Pranayama/Breath Control, Pratyahara/Withdrawal of senses, Dharana/Concentration, Dhyana/Meditation, all the way to reach Samadhi.
I feel this teleological view of Pantanjali’s discourses on consciousness is not true - rather than a road, it is a circle.