Ani Trime was the Buddhist nun who organized and built the labyrinth I walk all the time, as part of her religious work. An American, born Nettie Poling in West Virginia, she was a wonderful person, and the fact that her body is now silent does not alter the fact of her great and continuing life.
I met her once, while Handsome Son and I were waiting anxiously in the surgical waiting room at the old hospital, then located near the labyrinth.
It was the day we were to find out whether they could restore any movement to forestall Handsome Partner's quadriplegia, so we were nervous. I suggested to him that he pass some of the time by walking the labyrinth, and this nice older woman leaned over and said, oh you know the labyrinth?
I explained that it had become a main spiritual exercise for me, and she agreed that in that case, given our situation that day, it was a good moment for my son to walk it. When the news out of surgery was that there was no hope of restoring movement, he was glad to have walked it, as a help with the emotion of the day. That was where our lives fell into before and after.
She explained she had built the labyrinth, and was very happy to hear that it was being used. Tomorrow will be her funeral services, so I will walk it again, this time for her. She would understand this.
Another friend was in a meditation group she led, and one of the things Ani taught was to sit, take a breath, hold it a moment, then on the exhale tell yourself: at this moment in time, my life is perfect. This is surprisingly calming and helpful, since all it does is characterize this very moment, not our whole lives.
Then to temporal things. Very unusually for me, I did a bit of retail therapy while I was at the Asian store picking up basic foods. A little one-person porcelain teapot, just right for getting through the next few tense days.
It's the blue and white with the fish, second shelf down. And I show you the other side of it, too, with the writing on it, and if anyone can translate, please do! I hope it's not a political slogan, is all..
This is my accidental collection of teapots and milk pitchers, just sort of found their way here. All with their own story, too, which I will spare you, it being slightly less gripping than other people's recounting their dreams or their mileage..
Thinking of you and your words. Not a lot to say, nor will I try. Take care, breathe slow and deep.
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