I’m more accepting this week – of the baseball game on TV at the lodge where I’m staying, of the Conservative at the dinner table. It turns out we’re able to laugh at the same things. (I will continue though to point out that voting Conservative is a very bad idea.) Basically though, I’m thinking why fight or reject the disturbances? Resistance is where the suffering is.
So I listen to my guided imagery CD made for me by a friend and I read a book called Zen Cancer Wisdom: Tips for Making Each Day Better by Daju Suzanne Friedman (Wisdom Publications, 2014).
The ride down to Victoria from Nanaimo last Monday was three hours with stops plus delivering someone to a medical centre in East Saanich. When I got to the Vancouver Island Lodge (run by staff and volunteers of the Canadian Cancer Society), I left my bags in my room and took a walk over to Oak Bay Avenue where I bought some asters at a flower market. I’ve read that the aster is September’s birth flower.
I chose the asters because they don’t have a scent, or not much of one. The lodge is a scent-free zone so I didn’t want to overtake the place with the fragrance of lilies for instance. Having a look in Messages from the Plant World by Liddy Flewwelling, I see the description for Aster: “Aster helps us surrender and adjust to our life experience. It supports being content with what is, rather than wishing things were different. Aster fosters the practice of being fully where you are without distraction.” Right on, I say.
Daju has a chapter in Zen Cancer Wisdom entitled “The Build Goodness Temple.” It’s the name of an actual old Chinese Zen temple. (I couldn’t find it when I googled. What came up was the Temple of Artemis which is a site I did visit in Ephesus, Turkey.)
Daju who died of cancer in March 2014, chose to surround herself with people who added goodness and meaning to her days, living with cancer. She chose activities that felt like donations to her personal “build goodness temple.”
To refresh one’s space, open the blinds and the windows to let fresh air in Daju advised. Add a fresh bouquet to a table or altar.
I have a round table in my corner of my shared bedroom at the lodge. I placed the bouquet of asters there and the textile art of Rumi’s quote beside it. It’s such a good reminder in the midst of my home-away-from-home: Remember the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside of you.
When I sat in the main lounge at the lodge for a bit, the sound of the baseball game on TV reminded me of my late mother who would watch the Blue Jays while knitting. She liked to be productive as well as watch her favourite team.
Mum’s last home was an apartment in a fifty-story building called the ManuLife Centre in Toronto. I was a few subway stops away in a four-storey fifties building where one of my writing circle participants said my apartment looked like an altar. I lived on my own then and I suppose every shelf, table or section of wall was devoted to a theme or a colour, celebrating a part of my life. All was done with intention.
Little altars everywhere is a phrase that comes to mind when I think of my current home in Nanaimo where we have little altars throughout our space. In the living room on top of the walnut cabinets that have been in Sarah’s family for a very long time, are two wooden boxes and a jar with the ashes of three of our departed cats. Sarah created the two boxes with photos of Simon and Qwinn on the front of them. Miss Pooh’s remains are in the jar. The incense burner is on that little altar.
On the dining table is the candle Birdy sent and the small book of Rumi poems beside a couple of pieces of beautiful bowls imported from Turkey. It’s a kind of altar too along with the scrabble tiles spelled out with a message from my honey.
On top of a cabinet in my bedroom I have four goddess reproductions I brought back from Greece and Turkey. Behind them are two wooden finger labyrinths.
Daju made the suggestion in her chapter, “Make Every Place a Temple,” of setting up an altar as a “small space that engages all of your senses.”
My old pine table (actually a relic from Sarah’s family) in front of the window in my bedroom is the altar that brings out “what is sacred within” me. I can look out the window and call in my guides: Arbutus and three other trees that are fir: Constant, Stillness and Serendipty I call them.
My radiation treatments at the BC Cancer Agency in Victoria are actually in the Fir Room and I imagine those guides as I close my eyes and imagine my dearly departed loved ones hovering nearby as well.
On the old pine table, I light some incense or burn some Turkish sage in a small smudge pot I bought on Manitoulin Island in Ontario. There are two candles from Meryem Ana Evi, the Virgin Mary’s house in Ephesus. Yes, isn’t it interesting that the remains of the Temple of Artemis, that many-breasted goddess who encourages us to walk the unbeaten path, are just down the road from the Christian Virgin Mary’s last house. I did read that the original meaning of the word “virgin” is “whole unto herself.”
A journal and pen lay waiting, welcoming, on the old pine table as well in my room at the lodge as writing is my spiritual practice.
The ting sha were tucked away for use with the writing circles but I’ve brought them out as the sound can welcome sacred contemplative time. Sometimes I get down on the floor for some yoga and stretching. Or move around to some music on CD.
“A small home altar can help us remember that our temple is always here with us, where we are. We can touch our spirits and recharge our batteries anywhere,” Daju wrote.
When I travelled to Turkey many years ago, I visited the ancient village of Catal Hoyuk. At first the archaeologists thought the residents of that 8000 year old town had separate spaces for sacred ceremonies. As the years of research went on using advanced technology in terms of analyzing soil for instance, they realized the altars and ceremonies were part of their homes and their daily life.
Thousands of years later, Emily Dickinson in her Amherst, Massachusetts home, said:
Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home.
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
As I walk to the BC Cancer Agency along Richmond Street in Victoria, I pass a garden with a Buddha figure. Another form of altar outdoors.
I can’t help but think of the things themselves. As Octavio Paz wrote in his poem “Between Going and Staying”:
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the power of their names.
What a wonderfully rich post this is. I learned so much like the original meaning of the word virgin. How interesting. I love how you described the many alters you have created around you. It is such a lovely way to ground your intentions in the physical world. I have always loved how you place flowers around your home. The message about the asters is so affirming for this leg of you walk of life. Thanks for sharing.
Pure Beauty, you have surrounded yourself in… thank you for the inspiration, Mary Ann. Thinking of you, with a lot of tenderness, in this time.
Thank you for today’s sharing. I continue to appreciate your take on life. I like the way you knit things together …. remembering connections and looping them around and into the present moment. I am getting a deeper appreciation of the benefit of daily spiritual practice as you share how you incorporate your practice into the experience that you are going through right now. Blessings.
Mary Ann, always inspiring, and we are always wanting more. I hope the weather holds, so you can escape the sometimes claustrophobic lodge. there is a cafe, nearby, called ” Cook’s Day Off ” they do a fabulous chocolate mousse in servings meant to be shared. celebrate each day. Thank you, blessings, love, Ann-x-x
Beautiful, Mary Ann, just beautiful.
through your eyes, your words, a portal. With thanks.
HI Mary Ann, as always, I adore what you write, how meaningful you can make even the toughest event.
You are a truly amazing person, and I admire your strength a lot. Loving hugs to you,
di
You are inspiring in how you approach each day, Mary Ann. I imagine you resting in the power of those four names: paper, book, pencil, glass. A lovely thought.
I’d hope to see you when I was in Victoria but my trip was cut short. Next time, or back here. Thinking of you.
Carol