Sunday Morning

I love mornings here in Oregon. Which is strange. In thinking about it, I didn't used to be a morning person, and I certainly was not up at dawn, not unless it was because I had been up all night and was greeting the sun on my way to bed. Perhaps it is because I am older now that I like rising early, or perhaps it is because the mornings here are so beautiful. Whatever it is, there is something about waking up to the slowly brightening sky, the cool, moist air, and dew clinging to a thousand shades of green.

I slept well and brewed some of Schoendecken's micro-roast coffee. I sat outside on the patio and looked out over the golf course. I love the borrowed landscape of the golf course. It is so perfectly maintained, almost japanese in the placement of its features, so restful, and best of all, requiring no work upon my part. It was cool enough (55F) that I needed my robe and slippers. I listened to the birds and watched the squirrels run up and down the trees. The only sounds I could hear were those of nature--it seemed that everyone else was asleep and I had the world to myself.

Later, when the world started waking up, and sounds of voices and car doors intruded upon my solitude, I went down to the river. I brought more coffee and my pad and some old bread for the ducklings. There were a few fishermen there, casting their lines into the water where the Clackamas and Willamette meet in hopes of pulling up the salmon and steelhead running past. We exchanged nods and I found a nice spot to place my pad, and I sat and meditated for some time, seeking and finding samadhi. It is wonderful to feel so alive and in the moment, so aware.

I did an emotion check: How am I feeling in this moment? And of course, there was that pervasive quiet joy that samadhi brings, but under the umbrella of tranquility there was sadness. I was enjoying the wholeness of the moment, but something in me, paradoxically, was saddened by separation from the people I love. I wanted Stas there near me, my wonderful companion... and Tamar, whom I feel priviledged to call my sister, so full of life... and Michael and Matt and Janne and Scott, the friends of my soul, and Stephanie, so near and yet so far, almost lost to me. I was reminded of my resolve to tell the ones I love how much they mean to me, to hold them close, and let them feel the strength of this emotion radiating from me like the warmth of the sun, bathing them in the light of unencumbered, unstinting, unconditional love: I love you / You are loved. There is so much love in me to be shared, and when I'm not fearful and damming it up, it flows, directed outward, toward the world. As it did this morning. The metta flowed from me and back into me and out again, changing with each cycle: May I be free from anger and hatred. May I be free from fears and anxiety. May I be free from pain and suffering. May I be free from ignorance and delusion. May I be happy and peaceful.. And still somewhat clumsily, because I am new to it, I touched upon my loved ones in my mind: May Stas be free from anger and hatred. May he be free from fears and anxiety. May he be free from pain and suffering. May he be free from ignorance and delusion. May he be happy and peaceful.. And on, through the list of friends and family. Next I touched upon the politicians, on the zealots of the world, on the people of London and Iraq, and then lacking enemies, having no intense dislike for anyone, I bypassed metta-sending for enemies and ended sending out to the world: May all beings be free from anger and hatred. May all beings be free from fears and anxiety. May all beings be free from pain and suffering. May all beings be free from ignorance and delusion. May all beings be happy and peaceful.

When I was done with my meditation, there was no sadness left, only tranquility. I felt like I was glowing.

I probably was.

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