Ageless and Timeless

Hummingbirds are gone. The feeders are down, washed, dried, stored, hanging in the pantry. The metal birdbath dish is removed from its pedestal, scrubbed clean, winterized, leaning against the enclosed adobe patio wall, no longer welcoming yellow-breasted gatherings on its rim to drink fresh, sweet garden water. A whimsical image of birds on ice skates gliding over its frozen surface makes me laugh. New Mexico nights in the thirties are here. For the first time this season, the Spiritual Adventuress donned her microfiber bathrobe and sheepskin slippers to meditate in the dark. Fall arrived yesterday. Wednesday, she flies to California for her son Grant’s antibody therapy. A milestone birthday arrives Saturday, but gifts are already here. Today’s Perfect Health meditation was on being ageless and timeless as things change.

Hiking the ditches, drains and acequias for ninety minutes with the “Walking Albuquerque” class yesterday made seasonal changes even more apparent. Muddy floodwaters from the 100-year rains coursed through the channels on their way to farm fields and the Rio Grande. Giant cottonwood trees along the Paseo del Bosque (Forest Walk) leaned out over the ditch banks, their downed branches, no match for 90-mile-an-hour monsoon winds, part of a natural obstacle course on narrow paths. Duck families took flight, horses whinnied from their corrals when we passed. I spotted my first “V” of honking Canada geese, but no Sandhill Cranes yet. As Henry David Thoreau said, “An early morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.”

In addition to the natural beauty, another gift presented itself – the awareness of how much easier it was for me this year to keep the pace set by the two Joyces, our quick-walking leaders. Last year I had the pink rose cane from my hip surgery with me just in case I needed it on the uneven terrain. This year, I walked in the first third of the group behind our trim leaders, who, to my everlasting enjoyment, were sweating. Being twenty pounds lighter from a year’s worth of aquacise didn’t hurt me either.

A few residual aches and pains from yesterday’s walk remind me I will soon be present with my son’s pain. I will have an opportunity to practice surrender – surrender to what is, surrender to my own pain, the pain of a mother being with her child’s pain, the pain of being with another’s pain. It’s human nature to want to avoid or distract ourselves from pain. We are in good company. The American Academy of Pain Medicine website reports that pain costs our society at least $560-$635 billion annually, an amount equal to about $2,000.00 for everyone living in the country. Grant’s stomach pain has progressed to the point where he has surrendered to prescription medication assistance to manage it, just as I did prior to my hip surgery when I personally experienced the debilitating effects of chronic pain for the first time in my life. But it's different “helplessly” watching your child suffer. I can cut myself and dispassionately see myself bleed, but when I see my son bleed, a visceral, squeamish feeling takes up residence in my stomach and migrates throughout my body.

“Embrace the pain,” one of my spiritual teachers said. How counterintuitive is that? Everything inside is screaming, “Run from it. Stop it. Avoid it. Deny it.” We medicate it with sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll (alcohol, food, shopping, gambling, relationships, television, video games, recreational drugs. . .) So, that is the spiritual practice. As in “do-it-over-and-over-until-you-master-it” practice. Don’t run. Stand still. Look pain in the eye. Be present without attachment. Easier said than done, as the saying goes. Grant pain being. Hmmm….what an interesting expression. Let it be. Be with it. I actually listened to the spiritual teacher and put what he said to the test.

One holiday season, I invited 35 people to my home for an exquisite, candlelight dinner of white wine scallop lasagna in appreciation for their volunteer work in an organization to which we belonged. I had bronchitis at the time. My ribs felt separated from my chest wall after coughing for six weeks, yet I did everything myself – from cleaning and decorating the house, putting up a tree inside and lights outside, covering the round, rented tables with white, linen tablecloths, setting the tables, purchasing and cooking the food. There was a complicated, multi-step recipe to follow on each of several main-dish casseroles. When time ran out, I had to hire my son and his friend at $20 apiece to finish the salad while I dressed. When the final guest left, my body started convulsing. I lay down on the sofa racked with pain. My thoughts led me to principles of truth and the teacher’s statement of “Embrace the pain.” At that point, I felt I had nothing to lose, so I did. Gradually, the pain began to ease. Then it stopped. I was amazed. It had transformed. I later realized I had stopped resisting, stopped believing in duality, stopped thinking there was something outside myself - something other than the one universe that could cause me pain.

On Thursday, the stakes go up when I spend time with my son in the hospital as he receives intravenous treatment. I’m entering the Ph.D. pain management program. Am I up to it? I don’t know. But I do know that the universe is preparing me for the practice with this writing and in meditation. Although I am not Catholic, I follow the New Mexico tradition of reverence for the Virgin of Guadalupe by burning a columnar glass candle with her image on it in my home, sometimes all day. I have bought them at Walmart, Dollar General, a pharmacy and Smith’s grocery store where there are cases of them on the shelves. They vary in design, quality, color and price. The blue window trim and blue front doors on brown New Mexico adobes are a tribute to Guadalupe, who protects homes and those within. Blue is the color of her robes. This morning, during meditation time, I thought about her experience of being present with her son’s pain. I thought about her name, the Holy Mother. Metaphysically, your name is your nature. Her name reflects her Whole-y-ness, her ability to be present embracing it all. I will carry this awareness with me when I go.