Reflections

I'm sitting at my desk drinking a nice strong cup of "recluse" blend coffee with a dollop of real cream. Outside my window the birch trees are swaying. There are very few bird noises, so I know autumn is coming. I've recently torn out a juniper bush and am thinking about what I will plant in its place. I have a flowering plum in a big clay pot that I want to get into the ground soon, before the rains come. I think I'll plant it right outside this window, so I can see it and know spring is coming by the swelling of the buds on its branches. I need to paint my fence soon, and transplant some volunteers that are coming up in places I don't want them. But I'd rather sit here, at one in the afternoon, still in my robe, listening to Andres Segovia play Bach's Chaconne, designed for the solo cello, on this classical guitar.

We had friends over for dinner last night. Stephanie did all the cooking. She made spareribs, corn muffins, beans and rice, summer squash and zucchini cooked in butter, and a wonderful indian rice pudding heavy on the cardamom. We served a Washington State chardonnay, light on the oak, and a 1996 Oregon pinot noir that I surprised myself by enjoying very much. For dinner music we had Bach, and after dinner we listened to Van Morrison and Johhny Lang. We talked about the recent death of Jim's step-brother, and how we felt about things like memorial services, and dying suddenly. Jim said he tries to live his life so that his loved ones know every day how much he cares for them. I really like that about him, the fact that he is a person who feels very deeply and that he doesn't feel that he must conform to the social stereotype of a stoic male. I can understand why Debi married him. Debi and Jim left around 11pm, and then I watched Predator 2. The wine and the fact that I was up at 6am on Saturday have something to do with the slow start of my Sunday, and I'm at peace with that.

I've been thinking lately about how complicated life can be. I wonder at the entanglements. Sometimes I wish I dared wield an emotional machete and just chop away at some of the ties that feel so binding, but part of me realizes that these ties are what connect me with other people, and with my own humanity. I spent too many years trying to separate myself from my emotions and things that evoked intense emotional response, seeking an inner serenity based on their absense. I found sense of contentment through denying my emotional needs. What I've come to realize is that doing so cut me off from compassion and true understanding. I am here to learn and grow, to experiece everything fully. It is my nature, my very sensual nature, and denying it is not my route to enlightenment.

The pleasures of the flesh pull at me. I wish I were better at denying them, but I think that denying them just makes me feel deprived. Is moderation the answer? Oscar Wilde, in A Woman of No Importance wrote: Moderation is a fatal thing...Nothing succeeds like excess. Robert Heinlein once said: Everything in excess! To enjoy the flavour of life, take big bites. Moderation is for monks. Ah yes, for a sensualist, these are endorsements of living life in captial letters: LIFE!